


Welcome to the Dungeons

by Jabean



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Pureblood Culture (Harry Potter), Pureblood Society (Harry Potter), Slight Albus Dumbledore bashing, Slytherin Harry Potter, Slytherin Hermione Granger, for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:06:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 57,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23599564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jabean/pseuds/Jabean
Summary: Hermione Granger and Harry Potter are sorted into Slytherin at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Follow the two as they figure out how to navigate the dungeons of the school and their place within Slytherin House.Follow them as they attempt to figure out their place within the Wizarding World.
Comments: 337
Kudos: 654





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! 👋 
> 
> Apologies for the long note, I just wanted to give everyone the heads up on a few things before you read the first chapter.
> 
> Firstly, a hugely massive THANK YOU to my alpha: **fbbbgirl**. Thank you so much for letting me bounce ideas off of you and for suggesting your own. Your help on this story is greatly appreciated. 
> 
> Secondly, this story has some slight Dumbledore bashing. It is honestly not that bad, as it is only the first year. However, when I do get to the later years at Hogwarts, there will likely be more of it. 
> 
> If anyone doesn't like reading stories that question Dumbledore's actions, I highly suggest not reading this one. It will not be for you, and that is okay.
> 
> Thirdly, I made Ron a jerk in this story. I’m sorry. Perhaps once he matures he will grow out of it. I haven’t decided yet. 🤔
> 
> Fourthly, I am horrible at tagging. If anyone sees anything they feel I should tag, please let me know and I will get right on it.
> 
> Enjoy!! ❤️❤️

Hermione Granger waited impatiently just outside the Great Hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Sniffing and rolling her eyes as she listened in on the other first year students worrying about the sorting. 

_Didn't anyone read?_ She thought angrily to herself. It clearly said in _Hogwarts: A History,_ that a sorting hat was the one to sort each and every single student.

Almost one year ago she had learned that she was a witch. Professor Minerva McGonagall had visited her and her parents on Hermione's eleventh birthday. Since then she had been reading up on it as much as she could. The professor had recommended a number of books to her that she could read in order to prepare herself before she entered the magical world. And, after numerous trips with her mother and father into Diagon Alley — a wizarding locale located within London — Hermione felt confident that she knew what to expect.

Hermione scratched her head, careful not to get her hand caught in her curls. The one time she had done so was embarrassing. Her peers at school humiliating her after she had cried out to the teacher at the front of the room that her hand was stuck. That she needed help. It was like her hair had attacked her hand — like it had a life of its own. Even Mrs. Pascal had a grin on her face as she helped Hermione free her hand.

She frowned at the memory. Her mind whirring with everything she had learned since then. About her being a witch. About the fact that witches and wizards had a secret neighbourhood right in the heart of London as well as an _entire_ Ministry of Magic.

Now she was here at the secret boarding school to learn some more. She couldn’t wait to learn all that she could.

She carefully scratched at her head once again. Annoyed.

Her head was always itchy, a constant tingle had been present for as long as she could remember. She wondered if it was her magic. Did other witches and wizards here have itchy, tingly heads as well?

Hermione frowned to herself in wonder.

"I heard we have a celebrity at the school," a pale blond boy called out loudly, near to where Hermione was standing.

She watched as he pushed his way towards the redheaded boy and black haired boy she had met briefly on the train. Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. 

Hermione sighed loudly. He should really leave the dark haired boy alone. It was obvious he didn't like the attention he was getting.

"Harry Potter,” the skinny, blond boy stated loudly. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. My name is Malfoy, Draco Malfoy.” A pause. “We briefly met in Diagon Alley this summer at Madam Malkins. I assume you remember." The Malfoy boy grinned at Harry as he held out his hand.

Hermione watched from a distance as Harry looked down at Malfoy's hand, hesitating slightly before he shook it.

"I-I remember you," Harry acknowledged quietly.

"Piss off, Malfoy," Weasley said loudly. He was scowling at Harry as he shook the other boy's hand. "You don't have to bother yourself with people like him, Harry. He's a git. Thinks he's better than everyone else. Dark family is where he is from." Weasley grabbed Harry's shoulder, as if to pull him away from the blond.

"It's fine, Ron," Harry said to the redhead. "I'm just trying to be polite." He shook Ron’s hand off of his shoulder.

"Red hair and a hand-me-down robe," Draco scowled at the redhead. "You must be a Weasley."

"I was also wearing hand-me-downs when you first met me, Draco,” Harry stated quietly but clearly. “Don't hold it against Ron if you aren't going to hold it against me.”

It was obvious to everyone present that he was trying desperately to keep the peace. To not cause a ruckus just outside of the Great Hall.

Draco frowned and opened his mouth to respond to Harry when the enormous door to the Great Hall opened slightly.

Professor McGonagall stepped out into the entranceway to greet the first year students.

"Attention everyone. Attention," the old witch said clearly. Her hands raised slightly to aid in getting the pupils attention.

A hush travelled over the group. Hermione turned her attention towards the witch.

"It is time for your sorting," Professor McGonagall said to the quieted group of eleven year olds. "The houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Your house is your home while you are here obtaining your magical education. The other students within your house can be considered to be your family." She smiled at the young pupils staring up at her. "I look forward to teaching you all, regardless of your house." 

She paused as she took in little Harry Potter. His tiny, scruffy appearance shook her to her core; it was obvious neglect. She blinked away her wet eyes. Hermione frowned as she watched the Professor’s reaction.

"Please line up and follow me into the Great Hall. Everyone is waiting to meet you all." McGonagall gave the students a tight smile and turned back around to re-enter from where she came.

Professor McGonagall walked back into the Great Hall, the small students following her cautiously. Students were huddled together as they took in their surroundings. The hall was enormous. The ceiling enchanted to show the sky. Tapestries hung above four long tables. Green and silver for Slytherin, blue and bronze for Ravenclaw, yellow and black for Hufflepuff, and red and gold for Gryffindor.

Hermione looked around in wonder as she walked with the others towards the front of the hall. 

Books couldn't replace seeing this place in person. It was beautiful.

The group of first year students huddled close together near the front of the Great Hall. They were facing the professors of the school and facing a three legged stool on top of which sat a rumpled, old wizarding hat.

Hermione watched in shock as the old hat cleared its throat and began to sing.

_Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,_

_But don't judge on what you see,_

_I'll eat myself if you can find_

_A smarter hat than me._

_You can keep your bowlers black,_

_Your top hats sleek and tall,_

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_

_And I can cap them all._

_There's nothing hidden in your head_

_The Sorting Hat can't see,_

_So try me on and I will tell you_

_Where you ought to be._

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the Brave at heart,_

_Their daring, nerve and chivalry_

_Set Gryffindors apart._

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal,_

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_

_And unafraid of toil._

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_If you've a ready mind,_

_Where those of wit and learning,_

_Will always find their kind;_

_Or perhaps in Slytherin_

_You'll make your real friends,_

_Those cunning folk use any means_

_To achieve their ends._

_So put me on! Don't be afraid!_

_And don't get in a flap!_

_You're in safe hands (though I have none)_

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

The song finished and Professor McGonagall unrolled a long scroll. "When I call your name please come forward and sit on the stool for your sorting." She peered down at the scroll. "Abbott, Hannah."

A redheaded girl in pigtails hurried forward and sat down on the stool. Professor McGonagall placed the sorting hat on the girl's head.

The crowd of students waited in silence as the hat rustled on the girl's head. Hermione could see her frowning slightly. Biting her lip.

"Hufflepuff!" The hat yelled out.

The table with the yellow and black tapestry above it cheered loudly, welcoming little Hannah Abbott to her new house.

Hermione could see her smiling. She sniffed and scratched her head carefully once again. She really didn't know where she would end up. She was hoping for Ravenclaw – knowing that she was quite intellectual for her age. Loving her books and studies, she was always the top of her classes in her muggle primary school. She also thought perhaps Slytherin, although she knew that would never happen. She was muggleborn, everyone knew that Slytherin house didn't allow in muggleborn students. 

She sighed quietly. She knew she had many of the characteristics of Slytherin house. Resourcefulness, ambition, achievement oriented, and a strong sense of self-preservation. Just not the most important one: having magical blood running through her family.

Hermione shook her head. She had missed part of the sorting. She needed to focus.

Professor McGonagall looked down at the scroll again after a student hurried over to Gryffindor table.

"Granger, Hermione."

Hermione stepped forward towards the stool.

She carefully sat down and waited for the Professor to place the hat onto her head. The last person she saw before the hat covered her eyes was Harry Potter. He was watching her with rapt attention.

"Ah… what have we here?" The hat muttered to Hermione.

_Legilimency?_ Hermione wondered to herself. She had read about it a month or so ago. She didn't know much about it yet. But it was something she was interested in.

"Indeed," the hat chuckled to her. "You are a bright one, aren't you?"

_I am,_ Hermione thought confidently. It was the only thing she had to look forward to at her primary school. Learning about new things. She had no friends. People avoided her or teased her constantly. Books were her life.

"Well, let's have a look then,” the hat said to her, more subdued. "You, my dear, are incredibly intelligent."

_Thank you._

"You're welcome,” the hat replied. "Now, I see plenty of ambition and resourcefulness inside your head. A high degree of self-preservation as well. Blast that Robby Murphy for pushing you into the mud puddle and destroying your school books."

_I got him good in the end._

The hat chuckled. "Indeed you did. Good girl." The hat paused, shocked. "What is this that I see?" It muttered to itself. "Interesting. Very interesting."

_What is?_

"You are being hidden, dear girl. Someone is hiding you from others. I cannot see who, they've wiped your memory of them. Your mind is blank from your birth until a few months later,” the hat muttered to her.

_My hair tingles and itches,_ Hermione thought clearly. _I thought it was from being a witch._

"No,” the hat responded quietly in her head. "You've had your appearance changed. I cannot remove it. I believe your parents — your _true_ parents — are magical, dear girl." 

Hermione gasped. Shocked at what she had learned. 

"I'm going to place you in Slytherin, Hermione. Perhaps you can become close with one of the older families and they can help you figure out who you really are."

Hermione agreed. It would be the best place for her to learn more about herself.

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat roared to the school.

The hat was pulled off of Hermione's thick, curly hair.

She walked slowly to the Slytherin table at the far side of the Great Hall. Nervous, as the reality of her situation slowly began to sink in. 

She didn't know what to expect. She didn't know what to think. Who had hidden her? And why had they done so?

Hermione carefully sat down to a subdued table. They had clapped for her, she was aware. But no one knew who she was. Not really.

"Granger," an older student quietly greeted as he sat down next to her. "Are you related to the Dagworth-Granger family?"

Hermione looked cautiously over to the older student. She spotted a prefect badge on his robes. She hesitated. "I – I'm not sure,” she quietly admitted to the boy. "I thought I was muggleborn, but the sorting hat said I had magical parents. That I had been hidden by them with the people I thought were my mother and father."

The prefect boy was looking at her with wide eyes. He gave her a nod of his head. "That's an interesting tale." He gave her a grin. "I'm Sebastian. Sebastian Avery. Welcome to Slytherin House, Hermione Granger." He shook her hand. "I'll let people know to leave you alone. They may think that you are part of the Dagworth-Granger Family. I suggest you look them up for the time being, for future reference. Figure out a story you can tell. Your parents hid you for a reason,” he reminded her quietly.

The Slytherin table started cheering loudly. Draco Malfoy had just been sorted into the house.

Hermione gave Draco a quiet clap of her hands and did Sebastian. Smiling as Draco sat down near to them next to two large boys. Crabbe and Goyle, if Hermione remembered correctly.

Theodore Nott was the next student to be sorted. He too was sent to Slytherin House. He sat down near Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle.

"Be careful with them,” Sebastian said quietly to her as he watched Harry Potter walk up to the sorting hat. "They may be dangerous for you to be around, Hermione Granger."

Hermione looked over cautiously at the prefect "Why?"

"Their fathers are Death Eaters.” Sebastian looked at her pointedly. Gesturing for her to lean closer to him to hear what he was saying to her without anyone listening in. "My uncle was one as well. My grandfather too. My father doesn't believe in pureblood supremacy. Nor do I. My mother is a half-blood."

Hermione gave him a nod of her head. "Good to know." She turned back towards Potter who was still sitting on the stool. He looked nervous. Hermione could see he was biting his lip, clenching his hands together.

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat roared to the Great Hall.

Professors gasped loudly. Someone had dropped their brass plate on the Gryffindor table. The clanking rang out loudly into the silent hall.

"Holy shit." Sebastian grinned at Hermione. He stood up and started cheering loudly. The others sitting at the table doing the same. Sebastian moved out from his seat and motioned to Harry to sit down next to Hermione. "I'll talk to you later, Hermione." Sebastian ruffled her hair as Harry sat down next to Hermione. 

Pale. Sweaty. He was nervous.

"Welcome Potter to Slytherin House,” Sebastian said in Harry's ear as he leaned down. "We will talk more once we get into our common room, alright?"

Hermione watched as Harry gave a swift nod of his head.

"Hello again, Harry," Hermione said quietly to him.

Harry turned slightly in his seat and gave Hermione a tight smile. "Hello Hermione." He swallowed. Nervous.

"I'm nervous too," Hermione whispered to him. "I'm muggleborn."

Harry looked at her, shocked. "My mum was muggleborn," he responded equally as quietly to her. He looked around the Slytherin table. Students were craning their necks trying to get a better look at the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry hesitated a moment. "Can we be friends?" He asked her quietly.

Hermione nodded her head and stuck out her hand for him to shake. "I'd like that." She gave him a small grin.

Harry shook her hand. His palm was sweaty. "Friends,” he said quietly to her with a small smile on his face.

"Friends,” Hermione replied with a smile of her own.

  
  


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**Note:** I do have [Tumblr](https://jabean21.tumblr.com/), if anyone wanted to stop by for a chat. Your kindness is greatly appreciated. ❤️❤️


	2. Chapter 2

The group of Slytherin first year students were ushered into the Slytherin common room by a handful of prefect students, Sebastian included. Harry and Hermione stood close together taking in the large room. Harry noted that the room had a green tinge to it, the large window bringing in very little light as it was the evening. He wondered where it looked into. Curious about what he would be able to see during the daylight hours. He knew they were deep down in the castle and had assumed there would've been no windows at all, much like his cupboard.

There was a massive fireplace off to one side of the room which was surrounded by huge bookcases and dark, squishy couches and chairs. Leather, he thought. Although he knew he was no expert in the matter. Aunt Petunia had said that leather furniture was high end. It was what the posh people had. Harry had a feeling he was here with posh people. They all held themselves in a way that told Harry they were better than everyone else. It made him slightly nervous. He had money in his Gringotts vault he knew, but he did grow up in a cupboard under the stairs. He knew he would make a mistake somewhere.

Harry looked off to the side of the room and spotted numerous dark wood tables and chairs. _Good for studying magic,_ he thought to himself.

He looked to Hermione who was also carefully taking in the room. They met each other's eyes and gave each other a slight nod of the head and a smile.

This was their new home. This was their new family.

"Alright, little ones,” an older girl with auburn coloured hair said to the room. "I am Stacy Burke, a seventh year prefect. Sebastian here is the other seventh year prefect with me." She pointed to a black girl. "That there is Camille Parker, and the boy beside her is Bartholomew Bastille - he prefers Barty. They are your sixth year prefects, both half-bloods." Barty and Camille gave the young students a wave but no smile. "Over to my right are the new fifth year prefects, Dani Avery and Marcus Bulstrode." The two also gave the room a wave of acknowledgement. Again, no smile. "If you have any issues you come to us, or you go to our head of house, Professor Severus Snape. I expect he will be here shortly. It appears as though he got tied up, probably due to a few of our new members of Slytherin House." She gave the room a sly grin.

"Welcome, Harry Potter to Slytherin. I can admit, it came as a surprise for me, and for all of us that you were sorted into the snakes. Your family, from what I know of it, has always been with the lions." Stacy looked pointedly at Harry.

He gulped. He didn't know what to expect, he had just gone with what the sorting hat had recommended to him. "Hello," he said quietly but clearly.

The prefects all gave him a smile. "Hello Harry,” Stacy replied with a grin. "It's nice to have you with us. Any story you heard of Slytherin House is probably not true.” A pause. “Well… not entirely true at least." The room gave a collective chuckle. "Next to him is Hermione Granger. I know none of us recognise her from any of our family get-togethers, but Sebastian has informed me that she is of the Dagworth-Granger family. She is from a small, isolated off-branch of the family whose parents sheltered her from the other, old Pureblood families. Including her own. Don't feel insulted if she doesn't understand who you are. It is through no fault of her own." She looked around the room, making certain that everyone was paying close attention. "Although, I do expect you, Hermione, to be exceptional at potions. It does run in your family after all." She gave Hermione a wink. 

Hermione gave Stacy a small nod of her head and a small smile.

Harry looked to Hermione. He thought it was interesting that she had thought she was a muggleborn up until her sorting. Having confessed to him about what the sorting hat had told her over their treacle tart. Who had hidden the girl? And why? Harry was curious.

"I will give the first years a warning in regards to their magical education here at Hogwarts,” Sebastian took over from Stacy. "Slytherin students are viewed suspiciously because of the history of our house. We are viewed as dark, as dangerous, and as detrimental to the good of magic. Nowhere in our house characteristics does it say we are dark, that we practise dark magic. Nowhere does it say that we are dangerous. Merlin himself was a Slytherin, was he detrimental to the good of magic?" Sebastian looked around the room at the students looking up at him. He gave everyone a rueful grin. "Resourceful, intelligent and ambitious: those characteristics to me sound like students who work hard at what they do. To me it sounds like students who know what they want and will work hard to get it." He shook his head. "There is nothing dark about having ambition. Nothing dark about being resourceful or intelligent. Don’t let anyone try to convince you otherwise.”

The common room door opened and in walked Professor Snape. The students all collectively turned their attention to their Head of House. He stopped next to the seventh year prefects and took in the new students in Slytherin.

"Good evening everyone,” he drawled. His voice was quiet, but carrying throughout the room. He turned to the prefects. "You've introduced yourselves, I assume." The prefects all gave him an affirmative nod of their heads. "Good." He turned back to face the first years. "I am Professor Severus Snape, your Head of House, also the potions professor here at Hogwarts. I welcome you to Slytherin House, it is an honour to have each of you here with us.” A pause. “I look forward to teaching you all. I must warn you though, I do have high expectations in regards to your schoolwork. The other houses assume that I give Slytherin students better marks than them, due to the fact they are from my house. This couldn't be further from the truth. You will earn your marks from me, nothing here is given for free." He looked at Harry and Hermione standing close together.

Harry swallowed. Professor Snape made him nervous. He couldn't get a good read on him. He didn't know what to expect. He appeared to be strict — _sure_ — but, that was only a minor thing in Harry's opinion. One could be strict and still be kind, or one could be strict like his uncle and be terrifying. 

Harry didn't know which one Professor Snape was quite yet. 

Memories of his uncle shoving him in his cupboard came rushing through his head. His aunt denying him food for days was next. Harry starving and determined, sneaking out of his cupboard in the dead of the night to steal food. To survive. He frowned and broke eye contact with his Head of House. He had suppressed those memories deep into the recesses of his mind. He wanted to forget the Dursley's altogether. They weren't here with him. He was free from them finally after far too long. He shook his head, trying to forget.

Professor Snape looked around the room again. "I'm sure you've already been told by your prefects. But if any of you have any issue with anything, you are welcome to come to myself or them with whatever is a problem for you. This is your home now. We are your family. We look out for our own. _Always."_ He paused. "Breakfast begins tomorrow at seven thirty in the morning until nine o'clock. You will be getting your class schedules then. Classes begin at nine o'clock. You will need time to get the proper books for your classes. Don't be late." He looked to Harry again. "First years, I recommend finding your dorm rooms. Boys to the right." He gestured for everyone. "Girls to the left." He pointed to the staircase to the side of the room heading even further down in the castle. "Potter and Granger, if I could speak with each of you for a moment. A prefect will show you where to go afterwards. Follow me please."

He turned and headed towards the door. Harry and Hermione following in his wake. He quickly walked into an office just down the hallway from their common room, both of them followed him inside. The door shut softly behind them. 

Snape withdrew his wand and waved it at the door as he muttered a spell under his breath.

"I've muffled the door so no one can hear us speak,” he told the pair. "Miss Granger, you are a muggleborn I've heard from Professor McGonagall. Have you had any issues yet with the students here?" He asked the curly haired girl.

Harry looked over to Hermione, watching her hesitate before answering.

"Actually,” she started quietly. "The sorting hat told me I had magical parents. That they've hidden me with who I thought were my mum and dad." Snape was looking at her with widened eyes, his shock plain to see. "The hat couldn't figure out who my biological parents are. Just that they wiped my memory when I was a few months old and changed my appearance."

Snape gave her a slow nod of his head. He was frowning at the girl. Wondering who she was.

"The seventh year prefects have told everyone in Slytherin that I am from the Dagworth-Granger family. A reclusive part of the family,” she finished quietly.

Professor Snape chuckled. "That's smart thinking on their part. The first years you are with, care deeply about magical bloodlines. Their families are some of the oldest around." He paused, thinking. "I will keep what you've told me to myself. The headmaster will not be any wiser. Nor will any of the other professors. To them you will be muggleborn. I suggest you use it to your advantage, it’d be the Slytherin thing to do. The other Slytherin students will understand and applaud your cunningness."

Hermione smirked and gave him a curt nod of her head.

Professor Snape walked over to a cabinet on the side of his office and pulled open the glass doors. He took out a vial and turned to face Harry and Hermione, handing Harry the vial. "I suggest you take it, Mr. Potter. It is a nutrient potion. You are small for your age. Too small."

Harry pulled the stopper out and drank the potion down without hesitation. He handed the empty vial to the professor.

"Can we talk with Miss Granger in the room?" The professor asked him carefully.

Harry gave him a nod. "Of course. She told me her secret. She's a friend." He looked to Hermione and gave her a small grin that Hermione returned with one of her own.

Professor Snape hesitated, unsure about what he was about to say. 

Harry frowned. "Just say it, professor. I don't mind."

"I know about the cupboard under the stairs,” Professor Snape muttered quietly.

Harry swallowed. "How?" His throat was tight. He was uncomfortable that Snape knew of his secrets. The Dursley's made sure no one knew about the cupboard under the stairs. No one.

"I saw it in your head, Harry,” Snape admitted. He steepled his hands in front of his face as he sat down behind his desk.

Hermione gasped. "You're a legilimens, aren't you professor?"

Professor Snape gave her a slight, almost imperturbable nod of his head. His eyes not leaving Harry.

"What's a legilimens?" Harry asked the both of them.

"He's a mind reader."

"It's a bit more complicated than that, Miss Granger, but yes I can see into people's minds." He paused. "I can see their memories."

"I'd prefer if I could keep my memories to myself, with all due respect professor." Harry felt violated. Understanding instantly what had happened in the common room only moments ago. "They are private. _Personal._ They are none of your business."

Snape gave him a nod. "I understand, Mr. Potter. It won't happen again." He paused. "I do recommend you coming to me for nutrient potions everyday though. You are far too small for your age. Madam Pomfrey has some as well if you are more comfortable with going to her instead. She is the healer of the school here. The matron if you will,” he added on in response to the confused faces he was getting.

Harry thought that it was as good a plan as any. He knew he was small, malnourished. "Alright. I'll agree to that, professor. When did you want me to come get them from you?"

"How about this time every night? Just after your dinner."

"Alright,” Harry agreed. "Was there anything else?"

Snape shook his head. "I'll walk you both back to the common room door." He led them out of his office and walked with them to the blank wall hiding the entrance into the Slytherin common room. "Salazar." He said quietly. A door appeared in the wall. "Goodnight you two." He turned and returned to his office.

Harry pushed open the door for Hermione, allowing her to enter before himself.

The common room was still relatively full. Although it was just the older students who were present. The younger students appeared to have gone to their dormitories.

Sebastian and Stacy walked over to the two first years.

"Everything's alright, I take it." Sebastian came to a stop in front of the two of them. They both gave him a nod in affirmation.

"Come Hermione, I'll show you to your dormitory,” Stacey said to her. The two of them walked off together leaving Sebastian alone with Harry.

Sebastian gave Harry a grin. "I said we would talk once we got here, Harry. Are you still wanting to do that? It won't take long. Then I can show you to your dormitories as well."

"Sure. It's no problem."

The pair of them walked over toward the stairs to the boys dormitories but stopped before they began their descent. Sebastian turned to face Harry. Standing relatively close to him. Careful that no one was around them. That no one could hear them. "I just want to give you the heads up right now. The students you are sharing a dormitory with come from families who, in the past, have openly supported the Dark Lord, Harry."

Harry frowned. "The Dark Lord?"

"You-Know-Who, Harry. Lord Voldemort,” Sebastian informed him quietly.

Harry swallowed, nervous. He gave Sebastian a slight nod of his head to show he understood.

"That's not to say that they do. I honestly don't know. I just assume they follow their families. Their family's beliefs. They are young, like you, they don't know anything else." Sebastian paused, searching for the right words. "I recommend you keep that in mind. Be aware of who you're surrounded by. Maybe you and them can become good friends. Who knows?"

Harry gave him a nod. "Thank you for telling me, Sebastian. I'll be careful, but keep an open mind."

Sebastian grinned. "I'll show you your dorm room now."

The pair of them began their descent down the stairs coming to a stop on the first landing they reached. "This is the floor with the first year dorms." Sebastian said quietly to Harry. "The further down you go, the higher the year." He knocked on the only door on the small landing before he opened it without waiting for a response.

He and Harry walked into a large room where six four-poster beds lined the walls. Three on each side of the room. Off in the distance was another door, Harry assumed it was where the lavatory was located. He spotted his trunk at the end of one of the beds and began to walk over to it.

"Good evening again, everyone,” Sebastian said to the boys sitting on their beds. "Treat Harry well, please. I'll see you lot tomorrow to walk you to the Great Hall. Be ready for seven thirty if you can." He turned and left the room, closing the door as he left.

Harry sat down on his bed. The room of boys were watching him closely. 

Harry frowned. "Hi. I don't think I got everyone's name earlier with everything that was going on." He scratched his head self-consciously, ruffling up his already messy hair.

Draco slid off of his bed, next to Harry's and sat down on Harry's bed. "Draco Malfoy." He grinned at Harry. "But, I don't think you've forgotten me yet."

Harry chuckled. "No. I remember you, Draco."

"I'm Vincent Crabbe." The shorter of the two stocky boys gave Harry a wave of his hand in greeting.

"Gregory Goyle,” the larger boy in the bed next to Crabbe said from across the room.

"Blaise Zabini." The third boy on the opposite wall greeted Harry with a grin and a wave.

"Theo. Theodore Nott,” the boy on the other side of Harry informed him. "Just call me Theo, Harry."

Harry nodded to the occupants of the room. "It's nice to meet you all."

"It's nice to meet you." They said collectively in response.

"Where have you been?" Draco asked him.

"I was just talking with Professor Snape." Harry frowned, not understanding what Draco was asking.

Draco shook his head. "Not then, Harry. Before you came here to Hogwarts."

"Oh.” Harry grinned. "I live with my aunt and uncle."

"Where do they live?" Draco asked.

"Why do you want to know?" Harry looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

Draco grinned sheepishly. "I'm just curious, is all. Are they your father's relatives?"

Harry shook his head. "I've never met my father's family. Do I have relatives still with the Potter's?"

"No you're the last of the Potter's, Harry,” Theo answered him. "There are no other Potter's left as well as I can remember."

"So what aunt and uncle do you live with then?" Draco asked him, confused.

"My mother's sister," Harry responded. "My mum's sister and her husband and their son. I live with them."

"You live with muggles?" Theo said loudly. Excited.

"Yes,” Harry replied. "Will that be a problem here?" He frowned. Unsure.

"Of course not." Draco waved off his concern. "You had no say who your mother was."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked him.

"Well… it just means that you had no choice that your father chose a mudblood. That's his fault not yours." Draco had a confused look on his face.

"What does that mean? Mudblood?" Harry asked the room. "It doesn't sound nice."

"It isn't,” Theo responded, shaking his head at Draco on the other side of Harry. "It's a derogatory term for someone who is muggleborn. Draco is an idiot, Harry. He doesn't know any better."

"I am not!" Draco protested. "I was just saying that it's better to have purer blood that's all. We all know that. It's common knowledge." He looked to Harry. "I didn't mean it in a bad way, Harry. I swear."

"I'd appreciate it if you didn't refer to my dead mother that way, Draco. It isn't nice." Harry said quietly.

"Sorry," Draco apologised quietly. "It won't happen again."

Harry gave him a nod. "You didn't know any better. It's fine." He ignored his jab at the importance of having purer blood. He didn't know how to respond to that. Not yet.

"What's it like living with muggles?" Theo asked him quietly.

Harry turned in his bed to face him. He hesitated. "It's normal. For me at least. This is strange to me. This magic. The castle. The sorting hat. The robes. Everything is strange to me."

"Fair enough,” Theo responded with a grin. "If I have any questions about muggles, can I ask you? I can’t ask anyone else."

Harry nodded. "Sure. I don't know everything, but I'll try my best to give you an answer."

Theo gave him another grin which turned into a yawn. _“Merlin,_ I'm tired. I'm going to get ready for bed." He stood from his bed and opened his trunk.

The other boys started doing the same.

Harry joined them in searching his trunk for his night clothes. Finding his old shirt and flannel bottoms, Harry pulled them out of his trunk and placed them on his bed. He took a quick look around the room and saw that the others were changing out in the open. He frowned to himself. Self-conscious. He sighed and pulled off his outer robe and took off his jumper, button up shirt, and Slytherin tie. He quickly pulled his t-shirt over his head. He started removing his shoes and socks. Sitting down on his bed as he pulled his trousers off. He quickly pulled his flannel bottoms up.

"You're very skinny,” Draco commented as he buttoned up his silk nightshirt.

Harry sighed as he folded up his school uniform to put back into his trunk. "Professor Snape is helping me deal with it, Draco. I get a nutrient potion nightly from him, alright?"

"Of course,” Draco said quickly, realizing at once that he had upset Harry with his comment. "Your nightclothes are very old. Huge too." He frowned. "Why don't you have clothes that fit? Diagon Alley was the same. Your clothing was far too big for you." He looked at Harry carefully. "Are your muggle relatives poor?"

Harry shook his head. "No they aren't." He didn't respond further. Self-conscious of the other boys in the room. Everyone was staring at him. Watching him closely.

"Not everyone wants to wear silk PJs Draco," Blaise said from the far side of the room. He too was wearing flannel bottoms and a t-shirt. "Not everyone wears clothing that an eighty year old wizard would wear."

Theo snickered on the bed beside Harry. His body shaking as he tried not to laugh out loud.

"Piss off, Zabini,” Draco snapped back with a grin. "My mother insisted."

Theo burst out laughing.

"Stop," Draco said with some difficulty, he was fighting a grin of his own. "Stop making fun of me." He hopped back into his bed, pulling the covers up to his chin. "I have to write to my mother and father tomorrow. I'll ask my mum for something less old-man-looking, I'll tell her people were making fun of me."

"You do that, Draco." Theo sighed as he pulled his own covers up. "Goodnight everyone."

"Goodnight." The boys in the room said as one.

Harry pulled his own covers up to his chin after he placed his glasses on the nightstand beside his bed.

He was finally home.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione awoke with a start. The other girls in her dormitory were already getting ready for the first day of classes. She yawned as she sat up in her four-poster bed, her eyes watering in protest.

She took a quick peek at her watch on her bedside table and saw that she had plenty of time to get ready for school.

“Have a good sleep, Hermione?” Pansy asked her as she straightened out her hair while looking at a small compact in her hand.

Hermione nodded, yawning once again. “I did.” A pause. “Everyone sure is up early.” She couldn’t keep the concern out of her voice. At home she only needed thirty minutes or so to get ready before breakfast. It was only six o’clock in the morning now — she had at least an hour extra to prepare for the day.

Pansy grinned at her, shaking her head in amusement. “I take it your mother or father never inspected your outfits before the day started to make certain they were up to standards?”

Hermione swallowed, shocked. She shook her head slowly. “No. They only emphasised the importance of education. They never really felt the need to critique how I looked.” A pause. “I am only eleven. We both are… surely how we dress doesn’t really matter, does it?” She looked at the other girls in the room who had stopped what they were doing to look at Hermione as she spoke.

“I’ve been taking part in holiday galas among many other things since I was a toddler,” Daphne warmly informed Hermione as she applied some lip balm in front of a mirror. “It has always mattered. For the boys, too. Appearance is exceptionally important in the magical world, and even more important in Slytherin House.” She turned to look at Hermione directly. “It is how we represent our family and our house here at Hogwarts. It would be unseemly to ignore that. To ignore the importance of where we come from.”

“It also gives a witch her power,” Pansy chimed in thoughtfully. “Not actual magical power, but influential power. Political clout if she so chooses.” She grinned at Hermione. “I mean, look at Draco’s mother. Narcissa Malfoy is the epitome of a witch looking the part while using her familial influence — both Malfoy _and_ Black.”

“Doesn’t that allow for discrimination against less wealthy people though?” Hermione voiced quietly. “Surely the better off families would have better clout than the less wealthy.”

Pansy shook her head. “Yes and no. One can still look sharp without having a lot of galleons in their vault at Gringotts. You don’t have to wear Twillfitt and Tatting’s outfits everyday, or at all. Second-hand shops can work well enough if you take the time to search.” A pause. “If you look the part, people will listen to what you have to say. Moreso than if you just wore your frumpy clothing while you were out and about. It tells the other families that you do not care about the family you are a part of — via marriage or blood. Like Daphne said, it is uncouth.” She sighed, shaking her head. “With all that being said however, galleons do help in getting your voice heard by the Ministry of Magic.” A quiet snort. “But that is government for you, is it not?”

Silence as Hermione digested that information. She hadn’t read anything about it in her books introducing her to the magical world. _Because you were believed to be muggleborn,_ she thought angrily to herself. The books she had purchased were directed specifically to the muggleborn witch or wizard. Their authors hadn’t felt the need to inform muggleborns about these particular facts.

Purebloods and halfbloods likely would have learned about it from their family.

“I’m sorry,” she apologised to the girls still watching her closely. “I hadn’t realised that.” A long sigh as she thought of a way to explain herself. “I believe my mother and father have left out a substantial part of my education prior to me coming to Hogwarts.” 

“That’s alright,” Tracey Davis reassured her. “We can help you when we don’t have classes or homework.” She looked to the other girls in the dormitory. “It’ll be fun!”

Millicent grinned sheepishly at Hermione as the other girls voiced their agreement. “Traditionally, there is time set aside during a young witch’s birthday to spend with her friends and other girls her own age. Perhaps we can do something with you on your birthday, Granger.” A pause. “When _is_ your birthday?”

Hermione grinned, relieved at the chance to get to know her new dormmates better. To get to learn more about the customs in the wizarding world. “The nineteenth of September, actually.”

Pansy clapped her hands together, causing Hermione to jump at the sharp noise. “Perfect! Daph and I can get everything sorted by then.” Her excitement could be felt by all in the dormitory. “We can tell you tips and tricks that we have learned from our own families. Have a girl’s day of sorts in the dorms here.”

~ | ~

Hermione climbed up the staircase and entered the common room expecting it to be mostly empty. Only a few older students were present, along with Harry Potter, who was sitting off away from everyone else.

Hermione had taken the time to make certain her school uniform was in tiptop shape and had even taken the time to at least attempt to tame her curly hair. The other girls in her dormitory were just finishing up getting ready and had informed Hermione that they would sit near to her during breakfast in a show of solidarity.

Harry was sitting in a chair facing the massive window. The green of the water leaching into the room, adding to the already green space.

"We're under the lake,” Hermione stated as she took the chair facing Harry.

"Yeah… it looks like it, doesn't it?" Harry replied to Hermione without looking at her.

"Why're you up so early?" Hermione asked him quietly as she settled into the seat across from him. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet. 

Harry had already put on his school uniform, his tie skewed ever-so-slightly. His hair sticking up every which way. Hermione grinned to herself. He still looked put together in her opinion. Respectful to his family whether he realised it or not.

"Couldn't sleep.” Harry yawned as he turned to face her. "I'm usually up this early beginning to make breakfast for everyone anyway. Sometimes earlier." Quiet admittance. "I was also thinking about my parents. My mum especially."

Hermione gave him a nod of her head to show she was following along. She had read up on the story of Harry Potter. The story of his parents dying. Being murdered by You-Know-Who and baby Harry surviving while the dark wizard fell. No one understood how he had survived with nothing more than a scar on his forehead. It didn't make sense. Not to Hermione, nor to anyone else. Although she could admit she was only eleven – almost twelve – she probably didn't know enough about magic just yet.

"What about your mum?" She asked the raven haired boy.

"Draco, last night, called her a mudblood.” Quiet. Barely louder than a whisper.

Hermione hissed. "How _dare_ he. That ignorant… _fool."_ She knew other, more inappropriate words to call Draco, but decided against them at the last second. Her mother and father’s house rules about swearing were humming through her head.

"I know, Hermione. I told him to not refer to my mother that way. That it was rude. He apologised." Harry ruffled his hair in thought. "I didn't know what it meant at first, but I could tell it wasn't a nice word.” A sigh. “Theo actually told me what it meant. He called Draco an idiot for saying what he did."

Hermione frowned. "How much of the magical world did you know about before you came here, Harry?"

_"Nothing.”_ He couldn’t hide the worry from his face. “I knew nothing until I got my Hogwarts letter in July. Hagrid tracked down my aunt and uncle and gave me my letter on my birthday." He paused. "We left them and travelled to Diagon Alley where we went shopping for my school things.” He sighed, shaking his head as he went over his experience being introduced to the magical world. “I didn't even know how my parents died, Hermione. I was told by my aunt that they had died in a car crash. That I got my scar from the crash. Hagrid told me what really happened in Diagon Alley over lunch."

Hermione frowned. Why had Hagrid — the gamekeeper of all people — gone and picked him up? Why had Hagrid been the one who had given him his letter? It didn't make sense to her. Why hadn’t McGonagall or another professor done it like they had with her?

She cleared her throat. "I have a book on what happened, Harry. If you want to read it you're more than welcome to. I was told that it is probably the most accurate by the man in Flourish and Blotts." She gave him a small smile.

"There's a book about me?" Harry asked quietly. He couldn’t keep the shock out of his voice.

"There are quite a few, Harry. Mostly you're in textbooks. Defence textbooks or history textbooks mentioning what you did that night."

Harry swallowed, uncomfortable. "I didn't do anything, Hermione. I was fifteen months old. What would I have done then?" Harry looked at her with worried eyes.

Hermione frowned in agreement. It didn't make sense to her either. "Maybe it was your mum or dad. Maybe there is a special spell or something that they did, Harry. To save you."

"Maybe," Harry conceded.

The pair of first years chatted with each other in the common room until it began to fill up with students. The fifth year prefect, Dani Avery, made her way over to them. "Are you two ready for some breakfast?" She took them in, already dressed in their Slytherin uniform and robes.

"Yes, of course."

"Will we need to bring our school bags with us?" Hermione asked the prefect as she stood up from her seat.

"Not yet." Dani shook her head. "We will walk all the first years back a few minutes before classes begin for you to grab your things that you'll need for the day."

The group of first years waited for the stragglers before they left the common room and headed to the Great Hall for breakfast.

Harry and Hermione sat down next to each other at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. The first years had all sat together at the table. Pansy and her other dormmates sat on one side of Hermione, while Harry and his dormmates sat on the other side of her.

Hermione helped herself to a couple of slices of toast, some sausages, and eggs. She was really quite hungry. She was regretting not eating a lot at dinner the night prior, having been extremely nervous and confused after the sorting from what she had learned. She had almost finished her breakfast when Professor Snape appeared behind her.

"Miss Granger, your schedule,” he drawled as he reached over her shoulder, handing her the piece of parchment.

Hermione took it from him. Thanking him as she did so. She peered at her schedule as Harry and the other first years received their own from the Head of Slytherin House. Today she had Transfiguration and Charms before lunch, and then Defence Against the Dark Arts afterwards.

Sebastian stood behind Hermione and peered over her shoulder to look at her schedule. "Looks good! Is everyone ready to head back to our common room to get your things?" He asked the first years.

The small group gave him a murmur of noise which he took to be in the affirmative. "Great! Follow me." He stepped back from the table and waited for everyone to stand before he began the trek back down to the dungeons.

~ | ~

Hermione and Harry were sitting together before the start of their first Transfiguration class. 

She had decided to stick close to Harry, knowing that he wouldn't tell her secret to everyone the first chance he got. She had a feeling about him, a mothering feeling almost, and wanted to be near to him. She knew he hadn't a good life before he found out he was a wizard – the cupboard that Professor Snape mentioned last night was still running through her head. The boy was tiny for his age, Hermione herself was taller than him by a small amount and everyone she had met so far in her short life had always told her she was a tiny girl.

She looked at her watch and noticed that the class was supposed to have begun a few minutes ago. Professor McGonagall had greeted them all as they had entered the classroom. Now, however, she had turned herself into a cat and was waiting on her desk. 

A pair of Gryffindor students had yet to arrive. Ron Weasley and Neville Longbottom – the two boys she had spoken to on the train.

Off in the distance hurried feet could be heard slapping against the stone floor. The door to the classroom was pried open forcefully and the two tardy boys walked into the room, gasping for breath.

"Thank Merlin,” Ron Weasley gasped loudly. "She isn't here yet." He slapped Neville on the shoulder as they took the two empty seats at the table next to Hermione and Harry.

Hermione fought a grin. She could hear Draco – sitting directly behind her – snorting quietly and whispering to Theo Nott.

The cat quickly changed back into Professor McGonagall after a moment of silence. The Longbottom boy almost fell off of his chair in shock.

"Bloody hell. That's wicked!" Ron exclaimed.

"Why thank you, Mr. Weasley." Professor McGonagall peered down sternly at the redhead. "Five points will be taken from Gryffindor for being five minutes late to my class."

"FIVE POINTS!"

"Each." Professor McGonagall looked pointedly at Ron and Neville, daring them to argue with her.

"Apologies Professor," Neville said quietly as he took out his wand, notebook and quill.

"It's no matter, Mr. Longbottom. Now you know where to go; it happens to the best of us." The professor gave him a kind, reassuring smile.

"Transfiguration,” Professor McGonagall had begun her lecture. She pointed her wand at the blackboard at the front of the room. Notes appeared on it instantly. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

She began to pace around the room. "It is the art of changing the form and appearance of an object or a person. On the blackboard is the transfiguration alphabet. It is extremely important that you copy it down identically to what you see. It is the major building block for all future transfigurations. Without it you cannot perform this magic."

The lecture continued for the rest of the period. Hermione was pleased at herself for getting ten points for Slytherin for her correct answers to questions that Professor McGonagall had asked. She was glad she was able to read ahead during the summer. She knew the material in the textbook very well.

~ | ~

Charms was probably one of Hermione's favourite classes, having been the only one so far that had them practising magic already. 

She was already able to perform the levitation charm that Professor Flitwick had asked of them and was also able to help Harry out with his wand movement and pronunciation before he too could perform the charm. 

The pair of them had earned another ten points for Slytherin.

"It's levi-O-sa, not levio-SA," Ron said to his Gryffindor classmates as they pushed their way out of the classroom, chuckling as they did so. 

Ron shoulder checked Hermione as she attempted to get out of their way.

She sniffed as she rubbed her shoulder, suddenly self-conscious. She hadn’t meant to overstep her place. Her enthusiasm at learning magic had gotten the better of her.

"Hermione, it's alright,” Harry reassured her quietly as they made their way down the stairs towards their common room. "I have no problem with you correcting my pronunciation. It only helps me get better."

Hermione turned to look at him. "I don't want to come across as being a know-it-all, Harry. Please let me know if I'm annoying you. I just sometimes blurt things out without thinking about the consequences. Without thinking about people's feelings."

"Weasley was saying it wrong too, Hermione," Theo informed her as he and the other Slytherin students walked behind her and Harry. "He's just being an idiot. Don't let it get to you. The dumb tomato couldn’t even get his feather to float until Professor Flitwick stepped in to help."

Hermione gave a little huff of laughter at the jibe. "Thank you, Theo."

The group of first years entered the common room to switch their Transfiguration and Charms textbooks out for their Defence one before they headed up to the Great Hall for lunch. 

After a quick meal, the group made their way to the Defence classroom, every first year was looking forward to this class. Hermione included.

Hermione stepped through the door and scrunched her nose. The room reeked of garlic. It made her eyes water. She quickly covered her mouth and nose with the sleeve of her cloak. Trying desperately not to breathe in the foul smell.

"Ugh," Harry muttered behind her. Hermione turned her head slightly and watched as Harry brought his own sleeve up to cover his nose and mouth.

They shared a look with one another. Confusion and uncertainty. If this was going to be a regular occurrence, the both of them would have to get used to the smell. 

Hermione and the others quickly found a seat; Harry once again shared the table with her.

Professor Quirrell quickly walked into the room. Looking over his shoulder as he did so. Worried. Hermione frowned. He looked scared of his own shadow in her opinion. An alarming characteristic for a defence professor.

Harry hissed as if in pain, grasping his forehead as he clenched his eyes shut.

"Harry, what's wrong?" Hermione questioned him quietly. She had put a comforting hand on his shoulder as she muttered into his ear.

"My scar is burning,” Harry complained to her, equally as quietly. "It feels like a hot poker is being jabbed into my forehead.” He blinked his eyes open after a moment of silence. “It's never happened to me before." He couldn’t hide the worry on his face or in his tone.

Hermione watched him closely as Professor Quirrell began the roll call for the students. "Has it gone away now?”

Harry gave her a nod of his head. Exhaling slowly.

The two of them began unpacking each of their school bags for the lecture that was about to start. Hermione was worried at what she had witnessed with Harry. His scar shouldn’t have hurt him, magical or not.

Before long class was finished and the school day was soon over. Hermione was looking forward to reading further ahead in her textbooks. 

She was also looking forward to reading the _Pureblood Directory_. She just needed to figure out a good time to do so. Would it look suspicious if she were to read such a thing in the common room with everyone there? 

She frowned. Perhaps she'd wait until after dinner. She could argue that she was sheltered by her parents and was unsure who everyone was. Surely that would be good enough and it wasn’t too far off from the truth if she was being honest with herself. She didn’t really know who most of the families were. Not yet, anyway. 

~ | ~

After dinner in the Great Hall, Hermione found herself curled up on the side of a sofa. The _Pureblood Directory was_ in her arms on a random page as she took a break to rest her eyes.

Harry had just come back from Professor Snape's office, telling her that he informed the professor of his scar hurting during defence class. Hermione had nagged him over dinner. Informing him that he needed to tell someone; that scars hurting _years_ after receiving one was strange, even in the magical world.

Hermione sighed and flipped another page in the old book. She had no idea where to even begin. She didn't know anything about magical families.

"Ah the _Pureblood Directory,"_ Draco drawled to her as he sat down on the coffee table facing Hermione. She looked up from the book to peer at the blond boy. "Why're you reading it?" He asked her once he had her attention.

Hermione cleared her throat. “My parents sheltered me from everything. I wanted to learn about the different families in the magical world," she replied. Cautious. “Thought I’d start with the pureblood ones.”

Draco nodded, her excuse had made sense to him apparently. "I can teach you about mine, if you would like." He grinned at her. "Malfoy on my father's side and Black on my Mother's — two of the purest, _oldest_ families around."

Hermione gave him a small smile. "I've already looked at the Malfoy tree, Draco."

"Then I'll show you the Black one," Draco said as he sat down next to her. He grabbed the book out of Hermione's arms and began flipping pages. Searching. "Here we are," he exclaimed after a moment, pointing to the Black Family tree.

Hermione leaned closer to Draco and took a look at the tree. She looked at the family crest at the top of the page, spotting the words _Toujours Pur._

"Always pure," Hermione muttered to herself. She had taken French in primary school. While she knew a few words and terms here and there, she wasn’t fluent by any stretch.

Draco hummed in agreement. "The family motto. The Black Family has been around since the Middle Ages. See." He pointed to an individual at the top of the tree.

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she took a closer look at where he was indicating. She spotted a fellow born in the year 1311 CE. She gasped. They were such an old family. "Are they the oldest family around?" She asked him quietly.

Draco nodded. "The oldest family that is _still_ around, yes." He paused. "By that I mean the name, Black. Mother doesn't really count, she can't carry the name. She is a Malfoy now. Most of the pureblood families are related in some way to the House of Black.” He grimaced dramatically. “Even the Weasleys.”

Hermione looked closer to the tree, searching near the bottom. She frowned. It looked to her that everyone had died off. The last death was in 1979, someone by the name of Regulus Arcturus Black. 

She looked back up at Draco who was watching her closely. "But the last person died in 1979.” She pointed to Regulus on the page. "The name's extinct now." 

Draco shook his head in disagreement. He had a slight grin on his face. "See here?" He pointed to a funny looking spot on the tree, right next to Regulus. It looked like ink had been smeared. "His brother is still alive. He's just been blasted off of the family tapestry by the Head of House." Draco paused, uncertain if he should continue. 

He took a quick look around the room. "Mother told me about him. She wasn't supposed to, but she said it was important. She went against my father’s wishes.” He sighed. “Sirius Orion Black — that's who is supposed to be there. He was a Gryffindor, the first Black to be sorted into the house; the _only_ Black to be sorted into that house. They are always Slytherins. _Always._ ”

Hermione nodded, indicating that she was following along. "Why was he blasted off of the family tapestry? Because he was a Gryffindor?"

Draco shook his head. "No it came later on, apparently. He was friends with mud – _muggleborns._ Muggles even. He went against his family. I don't know exactly what happened. Mother wouldn't tell me." He paused. "She told me that it is important to always look after your family. No matter what. She disagreed with him being disowned, I think."

"What happened to him?" Hermione asked him quietly. "Where is he now?"

Draco gave her a grin that was more of a grimace. "He's in prison for murder. He murdered thirteen people. Twelve muggles and a friend." Another pause. "Mother said it doesn't fit with the Sirius she knew. That he would've never done that."

"She thinks he’s innocent?"

Draco gave her a subtle nod of his head. "She thinks they went after him because of his family name. Because he is a Black — the darkest family around."

Hermione hummed. "Can't she argue his conviction? Maybe there is evidence to suggest that he didn't do it. That he didn't kill all those people." She had no idea how the magical world worked in terms of legal matters. All she knew was that it was important to fight to get Mr. Black out of prison if he was innocent like Draco suggested.

Draco frowned. "I don't know. Maybe she can."

"You should ask her, Draco. Family is important."

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

Narcissa sat at her dining room table nibbling on her poached egg and toast when Dobby, one of their many elves, popped into the room clutching the mail for the day.

"Master and Mistress yous mail is here," the little elf squeaked.

Lucius held out his hand without even looking at or acknowledging the elf.

Narcissa rolled her eyes at her husband knowing he wasn't paying attention. "Thank you Dobby."

The elf smiled at Narcissa, "Yous are very welcome, Mistress." He placed the letters in Lucius' outstretched hand and popped away.

"You know Cissa, I really don't understand why you have to be so kind to the elves. They aren't children. They are servants." Lucius frowned at her as he sorted through the mail.

"Because everyone knows, the kinder you are to them, the happier they are and the better they do their jobs. It's common sense dear." She reached out her hand when she spotted a letter addressed to her specifically.

Lucius frowned, recognising his son's writing. "Draco just wrote to us yesterday. Why would he be writing again so soon?"

Narcissa scowled. "He's just a boy, perhaps he's homesick and wants to talk to his mother." She raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to question her.

"But still, Draco informed us that Mr. Potter was sorted into Slytherin, what more could he have to say?" Lucius pondered aloud.

Narcissa opened the letter. Smiling as she read the first few lines. "A girl." She read further through the letter, frowning. "He was speaking with another first year, a girl named Hermione Granger, apparently of the Dagworth-Granger family. A distant, secretive line." She frowned. She knew the Dagworth-Grangers, she had been close friends with their daughter when she was a young girl. Before school. She also knew there were no secretive lines within that family. They very openly supported half-bloods and muggleborns and muggles, it was one of the reasons she had lost contact with them. Her parents had deemed them unacceptable to associate with.

"The girl was trying to brush up on her pureblood knowledge, the different families. Her parents kept her very sheltered." She continued reading. She hummed. "Draco taught her of the Black Family, and she asked about my cousin, Sirius."

Lucius raised a single brow at Narcissa in question. "How does he even know about him?"

“I informed Draco that Sirius killing those muggles was very out of character from the boy I knew. I had informed him that I thought that Sirius was placed in Azkaban because of his family. Because of his last name." Narcissa paused, searching for the right words. "I told him that family was important. No matter what. We always stick by our family." She looked pointedly at her husband. "Draco's mentioned that perhaps I could look into his arrest. That maybe there was evidence that Sirius was framed. You know there was no indication that he was a Death Eater. None whatsoever. You were there Lucius. He wasn't. Ever."

"The Dark Lord had spies, Cissa. You know this. He had spies everywhere. In Dumbledore's Order, in the Ministry, everywhere,” Lucius argued. "I wouldn't have known about Sirius if he was with the Dark Lord."

"But, it doesn't hurt to look at things a bit closer does it?" Narcissa questioned quietly. "I will hire a lawyer, have him look at things quietly. Strictly through me. No one would know. Not until anything was found." She had already begun to formulate a plan in her head, and was merely informing Lucius of what she would be doing over the next few weeks. "He is the last of the Blacks, surely that must mean something to you."

Lucius sighed, rolling his eyes. "Fine. Strictly through you. If anyone were to find out that _I_ was looking into it, my comrades wouldn't let me live it down. I would lose all credibility with them."

“Thank you dear,” Narcissa murmured to him as she leaned closer to give him a peck on the lips. She could feel his grin as she pulled away from him and stood up from the table.

Narcissa hummed a soft melody to herself as she left the large dining room in search of an outfit to wear to an attorney’s office.

She needed to start with her day now if she hoped for anything to be accomplished.

~ | ~

Narcissa stepped into the attorney’s office almost two weeks after she had first met with him. The letter she had received mere minutes ago hinted that something important had been found. That he needed to meet with her as soon as possible. 

She folded her cloak collar down as she stepped further into the reception area and out of the cold. The weather in the southeastern part of England had taken an unseasonal dip in temperature over the last few days. 

"Good evening, Lady Malfoy.” A young woman stood up from her seat behind a tall receptionist desk. “Mr. Avery is in his office.” 

She led Narcissa down the hallway to a door. Knocking twice, the young woman opened the door and introduced Narcissa to the room.

"Lady Malfoy has arrived, Mr. Avery."

"Thank you Madeleine,” Stevenson Avery said in reply as he stood up from his seat behind his desk. “I can lock up when Lady Malfoy and I are finished with our meeting."

"Of course, sir.” Madeleine turned and left the room. Closing the door softly as she did so.

"Have a seat Narcissa. Would you like a cup of tea?" Stevenson asked her as he fixed himself a glass of brandy.

Narcissa watched him. She knew he rarely drank alcohol. And never at work. "I think I'll have what you're having, Stevenson. Your behaviour tells me you found something troubling."

"I did find something troubling,” the man admitted quietly as he got to pouring both of their drinks. "Thank you for coming on such short notice." He handed her a glass of brandy and sat back down behind his desk.

Narcissa watched him. The man was on edge. She could tell that he hadn't slept well recently. His eyes were tired, but himself alert. She took a sip of brandy. "What did you find?"

Stevenson exhaled slowly before taking a sip of his drink. He swallowed after a moment before chuckling quietly and shaking his head. "It's more what I _didn't_ find." He looked closely at Narcissa who was waiting for him to explain. "There is no evidence that Sirius ever received a trial. There is nothing at all. No paperwork anywhere."

Narcissa blinked. Surely he had to be joking. "How?”

"There are records of statements from witnesses. Muggles who were nearby when the explosion occurred. They stated that Sirius had been hysterical, that he had been arguing with Mr. Pettigrew in the street. They stated that Mr. Pettigrew was yelling at your cousin, ‘How could you? James and Lily’ is what they reported hearing." He looked back to the file on his desk. "Then the explosion, Mr. Pettigrew had disappeared completely. Sirius was kneeling in the middle of the road. Laughing. Then the aurors arrived. They arrested him on the spot. He went without a fight." Stevenson paused. "I'm not an expert but it sounds to me like Mr. Black was in shock." He looked to Narcissa. "Then, I have one Albus Dumbledore on the record stating to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that Sirius Black had been the Potter's secret keeper. That Albus had performed the fidelius charm himself." He swallowed. "That's it. No record of anything else. No trial. No record that Mr. Black himself was actually questioned by the authorities. The only note after the statement of his initial arrest was that he had been sent to Azkaban with a life sentence."

"He's innocent. He has to be," Narcissa stated. Her mind was reeling from the information she just learned. "Someone set him up." She frowned, remembering what she had known about the arrest. "They said that they couldn't find anything more of Mr. Pettigrew than a finger. Perhaps he apparated away… splinched his finger off? Muggle witness accounts stated that Mr. Pettigrew just disappeared. It does fit.”

"You think it was Mr. Pettigrew that set him up?"

"Perhaps,” Narcissa conceded. "Perhaps it was another individual. Someone smarter, more intelligent. Not to mention more knowledgeable of the goings on of the DMLE. I wouldn’t put it past Dumbledore to have a hand in such a thing. Sirius is a wild card, he always has been. If Albus felt that he couldn’t control him, I have no doubt he would’ve figured out a way to get him out of the picture.” She pursed her lips at the thought of the manipulative wizard. He wasn’t as good as the majority of the Wizarding World liked to believe.

“But why?”

Narcissa raised a single well-groomed brow at Stevenson. She took another sip of her brandy, but otherwise didn’t give him a reply.

_Harry Potter._ The answer was Harry Potter. It had to be.

“When can we meet with Sirius?” She asked Stevenson instead with a small smile on her face.

"I've written to the proper individuals with a request for a visit with him,” Stevenson told her with a sigh. "I haven't heard back from them as of yet.” He took a small sip of his brandy before clearing his throat. “I told them I was his attorney; they will have to allow me a visit with my client. I should be able to bring you along. There is no reason not to. You are wanting to speak with your cousin. You are family. It is your right."

~ | ~

Two days later, Narcissa Malfoy and Stevenson Avery were in the waiting room in Azkaban prison, checking in to meet with Sirius. Narcissa signed her name with a flourish on the appropriate line and looked back up to the guard as she handed the form back to him.

"We have your client in an interview room, waiting for you," the guard told Avery. "You may keep your wands for protection, but please do not allow the prisoner to get to your wand. He is a lifer. He is in here for murder. Don't think that just because you're family that you are safe. The prisoners will do anything to break free from this place. Including killing family." He looked pointedly at Narcissa. "Guards are directly outside the door. Knock twice for when the meeting is finished and one of them will walk you back here."

"Are the interview rooms private?" Avery asked. "Attorney client privilege?"

"No one can hear into the room. Attorney client privilege." The guard confirmed with a nod. "Follow me please."

He led the pair down a damp hallway. It was freezing. Narcissa pulled her robes closer to her body in an attempt to stave off the cool air.

"It won't help," the guard told her with a smirk. "One of the side-effects of having dementors here. You get used to it eventually."

Narcissa swallowed without replying to the man. She didn't know why, but she didn't like him.

The trio eventually reached a heavy door with two wizard guards standing just to the side. One of the guards opened the door to the interview room. Avery stepped inside the room first. Narcissa followed in closely behind him.

"Knock when you're finished." The door slammed shut.

"What a pleasant fellow," Narcissa muttered to herself.

A rough chuckle could be heard in the room. Narcissa's eyes followed the sound. Sitting behind the table was Sirius Black. 

He was chained up to the floor. Shackles on his wrists and ankles. Magic dampening, Narcissa was certain. He was filthy. He was skinny. His prison robes were torn and thin. She spotted bruising on a shoulder. Tattoos peaking out on his arms. His eyes though were very much alert. Aware of his surroundings. 

He recognized Narcissa instantly. She gave him a small smile as she sat down on one of the hard chairs. 

"Hello Sirius," she greeted her cousin quietly as she got comfortable.

"Cissa," Sirius greeted her in return. "I'm surprised to see you." His voice was raspy.

Avery conjured a glass of water and pushed the glass towards Sirius. "It's best we get down to business, Mr. Black. I'm not sure how long I am allowed here and I want to be able to get everything completed."

Sirius nodded as he awkwardly grabbed the glass of water. He took a sip. "What _is_ the business? Why are you here? I don't even know who you are, yet the guards informed me my lawyer was here." Another sip.

"Stevenson Avery,” the man introduced himself with a tight smile. “Narcissa hired me to look into your case. Your arrest and your trial, or lack thereof I suppose I can say."

Sirius nodded absently, he took another sip of water. He looked over to Narcissa. "How long have I been here? It seems like forever."

"It's 1991. The end of September to be specific,” Narcissa replied. "You've been here for almost ten years."

Sirius nodded once again. “Why?” He let the question hang.

"My son, Draco, asked me to look into your case,” Narcissa replied quietly. "I had told him years ago that killing muggles was not the Sirius Black that I remembered when I was younger." Narcissa paused. "I apologise for it taking so long for me to do anything."

"At least you did something… eventually." He frowned as he began to put the pieces together. "Harry. Harry should be at Hogwarts by now."

Narcissa grinned. "My son shares a dormitory with Mr. Potter."

Sirius barked in amusement. "Your son's a Gryffindor, how awful." He snorted. “Did you need some advice or something?”

Narcissa shook her head with a smirk. "My son is a Slytherin actually. Along with Mr. Potter." A beat of silence. “I believe it has been somewhat of a learning curve for young Harry.”

Sirius just looked at her with a shocked expression on his face. She had rendered him speechless.

"I hate to interrupt but we need to get your statement on what happened, Mr. Black. The sooner the better,” Avery told the two. He had gotten his quick quill ready for note taking, the parchment was lined up and ready to go.

The prisoner nodded, blinking as he tried to digest what he had just been told. "Where do you want me to begin?"

"The Potter's went into hiding," Avery prompted.

"The Potter's went into hiding just before Lily and James had Harry. June, I believe it was. June 1980. Albus Dumbledore informed them, along with Alice and Frank Longbottom that there was a prophecy that implicated both of their unborn children. Both Lily and Alice were due at the end of July. I don't know what was said in the prophecy, just that James and Lily agreed to go into hiding.” He sighed, shaking his head. “Albus made me the secret keeper for James and Lily. He performed the spell himself. I was their secret keeper for just over a year, when I decided it would be a _fantastic_ idea to switch. A bluff if you will. Everyone knew that me and James were like brothers. Everyone knew that I would've done anything for that family. It was my family, too." Sirius stopped talking, his throat tight. He took a drink of water and cleared his throat.

"October 1981, the 25th, I convinced James and Lily to switch secret keepers. I argued that people would come after me, that me being the decoy would keep them safe. We switched secret keepers later that evening. Peter Pettigrew was the new secret keeper." He looked down at his hands placed awkwardly on the table in front of him. "Less than a week later, James and Lily were killed. Harry lost both his parents because of my bright idea,” Sirius finished quietly. His hands balled into fists as if to contain his emotions.

"You confronted Mr. Pettigrew," Avery prompted after a moment.

Sirius nodded. "On the 31st of October, 1981, I went to check on Peter, to make sure he was alright still. I had been doing it every evening. His place was empty. No evidence of a struggle. Nothing." Sirius swallowed. "I knew something was wrong. It didn't feel right. It didn't sit well with me. I left Peter's place and headed to James and Lily's… to the village where they lived. I needed to check on them.” A moment of silence as he fought to continue the story. “I arrived in Godric's Hollow to find their place no longer under the fidelius charm. The roof had been blown apart." Sirius paused and took another drink of water.

"I entered through the front door and found James lying there on the floor. Dead." Sirius' eyes had gotten watery. His voice, rough. "I reached over and closed his eyes. The place was eerily quiet. I honestly thought everyone was dead." He swallowed. "Out of the blue I heard Harry cry out. Wailing. I went upstairs to the nursery and spotted Harry still in his crib. Alive. Reaching out for his mum, Lily, who was lying unmoving on the floor. The room was covered in rubble. The ceiling and entire roof of the cottage had been blown apart. I took Harry out of his crib and began the trek downstairs. I knew I needed to get him to safety. I wasn't sure if the house was going to cave in or not."

Sirius paused again, frowning. "Hagrid was outside. Said that Dumbledore needed to take Harry, to keep him safe. I gave him over. I don't know why I did so. I'm his godfather. But I gave Harry to Hagrid and I left to go after Peter. To hunt him down. No one alive knew he was the secret keeper, but me. I needed to capture him. I needed to turn him over to the Ministry." Sirius took another sip of water. "Two or three days later I tracked him down in a muggle neighbourhood. I confronted him right there in the middle of the street. I hadn't slept in days. The little shit got the drop on me and got away. He's an animagus, a rat. He yelled some shit to me. He blew the street apart with the wand behind his back and transformed into a rat and scurried off into the sewer with the other rats."

Sirius snorted. "The aurors arrived moments later. I couldn't stop laughing. I couldn't stop. They arrested me and next thing I knew I was here."

Narcissa remained quiet throughout Sirius' explanation of that night. Of all that had happened a decade ago.

"Why was Mr. Pettigrew an animagus?" Avery asked him. "Was he a spy? Was it to get closer to the Death Eaters to get information for Dumbledore?"

Sirius shook his head. "No. Dumbledore doesn't know. Me and James and Peter are all unregistered animagi. We have been since our fifth year at Hogwarts. I'm a dog, James was a stag, and Peter is a rat. We did it to accompany another friend during the full moon. He is a werewolf. Werewolves don't infect other animals. Just humans."

"Which is how you've kept your head in here for as long as you have,” Avery stated after he stopped his quick quill from recording.

Sirius nodded.

"Are you willing to testify what you've just said to myself and Narcissa?" Avery asked him. "In front of the Wizengamot?"

Sirius nodded again. "I'll even consent to veritaserum. I'll let them look at my memories. Anything you need. I'll do it."

Avery nodded to him. "It's going to take me a few days, maybe a week. Then you'll be moved to a holding cell at the Ministry to get you cleaned up for a trial. You _will_ have a trial, I guarantee it."

"An unregistered animagus is punishable by law. The sentence is time in Azkaban," Narcissa reminded the room. She turned to look at Stevenson, waiting for him to respond.

He shook his head. "I'll argue for time served. Maybe a monetary fine as well."

Narcissa nodded. It sounded like a good plan to her. She went to stand up to leave the room.

"Cissa, wait,” Sirius called out before she could take a step towards the door.

She turned to look at her cousin.

"What's Harry like?" He asked her, his eyes shiny with unshed tears.

Narcissa sat back down. She hummed quietly, thinking back to what Draco had told her of the boy. "I haven't met him yet. I was going to get Draco to invite him for Winter Break. But, from what I've heard from my son I do know that Harry is very bright.” She gave Sirius a warm grin. “He can keep up in his classes. He isn't the top student of his year, but he can hold his own. He is quiet, observant of others around him. Cautious. Draco has written to me and said that Harry meets with the Slytherin Head of House for a nutrient potion every night after dinner. He is quite small for his age apparently."

"Who's the Head of Slytherin House? Is Slughorn still there?" Sirius asked her.

Narcissa shook her head. "No, he has retired. It's Severus Snape. He's the head of Slytherin."

Narcissa watched as her cousin paled even more than he already was.

"Does he treat Harry alright?" Sirius asked tightly. "James and Snape hated each other at Hogwarts."

Narcissa hesitated. "He gives Harry his nutrient potion every night without fail, but I don't believe they are chummy by any stretch." She paused. "Draco said that Severus berated him during their first potions class a few weeks ago. That he asked Harry things that were very advanced; he wouldn't have needed to read about what he was being asked until a month or so into the term. A girl, a Miss Hermione Granger, stuck up for Harry. She answered some of the questions. As did Draco." 

Sirius nodded slowly, his head placed in his restrained hands. "Why would he need a nutrient potion? Could he just be small?" He looked closely at Narcissa. Questions running across his face.

Narcissa hesitated before shaking her head. "When I questioned Draco about that, he informed me that Harry told him he was living with his aunt and uncle. His _muggle_ aunt and uncle. I assume one of Lily Potter's relatives."

"Petunia is her sister. She hated magic; hated Lily. If she hurt Harry… if she neglected Harry because of me. Because of what I've done..." Sirius’ bottom lip quivered.

Narcissa reached out and placed her hand over her cousin’s. "He is safe now. He will be okay. Slytherins look out for their own. That is our motto, and it always will be.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Whatever has happened is in the past. He has a whole common room of people making certain he is being treated well. I promise.”

"We will get you out of here, Mr. Black. You'll be able to look after him soon. I promise you that,” Avery said to him. "You are his godfather. You'll be allowed to be his godfather. You'll be allowed to do what James and Lily asked of you. I promise."

"Thank you," Sirius murmured.

"I'll see you again in no more than a week,” Avery told him. "I need to get to work." He banged on the door.

The guards opened it instantly.

"Talk to you later Mr. Black," Avery nodded at him in goodbye.

"See you soon, Sirius. Not much longer now,” Narcissa said quietly to him. 

She turned and left the room. Following closely behind Avery as they quickly left the Wizarding prison.


	5. Chapter 5

Hermione was sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall working on her breakfast. It was a Sunday, not everyone was at the table at such an early time. As she poured herself a second glass of pumpkin juice she spotted Harry and Draco enter into the hall and make their way over to the table.

The two sat down next to Hermione and not a moment too soon. The mail was beginning to arrive. A regal looking owl swooped down in front of Draco and held out its leg.

“Thank you, Leo,” Draco muttered to the owl as he removed the letter tied to his leg. He grabbed a sausage from the table and handed it to the owl, who took it gratefully with a soft hoot in thanks before it flew off towards the owlery.

Hermione watched as Draco pried open his letter.

“It’s from my mother,” he said as he looked up at Hermione.

She waited patiently, nibbling on her toast, as Draco read through his letter.

“Mother says my cousin has been removed from Azkaban. He’s now waiting for a trial at the Ministry. They hadn’t even given him one, apparently.” Draco paused, reading further through his letter. “She’s asked me a strange question though. She wanted to know if any student here had a pet rat with them. I don’t know why.” He frowned.

Hermione hummed. She was sure she had seen one earlier in the year. She just couldn’t remember when.

“Ron,” Harry muttered to the both of them as he spread jam on his toast. “Ron Weasley has a pet rat named Scabbers. He’s been in their family for years apparently. He tried to turn it yellow with a spell on the train, but it didn’t work.”

Hermione gasped. “That’s right, on the train ride here! I told him it wasn’t a real spell.” She looked to Draco. “Let her know the Weasley family has a pet rat. Does she say what to do if there is one here?”

Draco nodded. “She just said to let her know and to let Professor Snape know. As soon as possible.” He took another peek at the letter clutched in his hands. “Quietly, she says.”

“Snape’s up at the teacher’s table,” Harry said to them. “You should let him know then.” He went to work on his eggs.

“Come on, then.” Hermione grabbed Draco’s arm and went with him up to the head table to speak with their Head of House.

“Professor Snape, sir,” Draco began once he and Hermione reached the table. 

“My mother wrote me a letter asking me a strange question.” He frowned, unsure where to start. “She wanted to know if there was any student here who had a pet rat as their familiar. Potter let me know that Ron Weasley has a pet rat, named Scabbers,” Draco informed the Head of Slytherin House quietly. “She told me to tell you if there was one here.” He handed Snape his letter for him to read.

Hermione watched as their professor quickly read through the letter. Frowning as he did so. An eyebrow quirked up and his mouth set in a firm line. He gave them both a curt nod of his head as he handed back Draco’s letter. “Thank you for letting me know. Head back to your seat and don’t say anything to anyone else, other than Mr. Potter. It will be dealt with accordingly.”

The pair returned to their seats and watched as Professor Snape made his way over to Professor McGonagall. He bent over to mutter in her ear, lips barely moving. The transfiguration professor nodded her head at whatever Snape was saying to her. Hermione watched closely as her eyes grew wide as she turned to look at Professor Snape. Snape gave a subtle nod of his head at her look of disbelief. 

She frowned, her mouth set in a grim line. 

She stood up from her seat at the head table and made her way over to both Professor Sprout — the herbology professor and Head of Hufflepuff, and Professor Flitwick — the Head of Ravenclaw. 

Words were said to the pair before Professor Flitwick left his seat, following McGonagall and Snape as the two of them made their way through the Great Hall.

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she searched the Gryffindor table, unable to spot Ron Weasley. 

_Probably still asleep_ , she thought as she looked at her watch. It was just after eight o’clock in the morning.

“Where is the Headmaster?” Harry asked quietly. “He’s been gone all week. Strange isn’t it?” He frowned as he took a sip of his pumpkin juice.

“He’s the Chief Warlock. He’s been at the Ministry all last week, and probably all this week,” Draco told him. “There is a trial that’s about to start. He needs to be there for that.”

“What’s going on?” Harry asked. “Why were you asking about a rat? Is it tied in with the trial?”

Draco hesitated, looking between Hermione and Harry. “Yes. I think so. Hermione got me to write to my mother about a cousin of hers. It turns out, the man never got a trial before he was sent to Azkaban. The Wizarding prison,” he added on in response to Harry’s look of confusion. “He was in there for murder. But, I don’t know anymore. Mother said it didn’t seem like him to do what he supposedly did.”

“But why the question about Ron’s rat? About Scabbers?”

“An animagus!” Hermione whispered excitedly. Slapping the table hard. “Of course. I bet you that rat is a person in disguise!”

“Hush,” Draco muttered to Hermione with a smirk. “Professor Snape said to keep it quiet.”

Hermione was practically vibrating in her seat with excitement. She grabbed her glass of pumpkin juice and took a big sip. She knew she was correct.

The trio eventually finished their breakfast after being joined by the rest of the Slytherin first year students. Professor’s McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick had yet to return to the Great Hall. 

A group of wizards poked their heads into the hall, giving the large room a quick search.

“They should be in Minerva’s office, Auror Shacklebolt,” Professor Sprout called out from the head table.

“Thank you.” He nodded at her and motioned to one of the other aurors stationed at the doorway. “Roberts is just going to stay here for the time being. I’ll ask for everyone to stay here until one of us tells you it is safe to leave the hall.” 

Auror Shacklebolt left the hall with the other five aurors. The clunking of a wooden leg could be heard as the group of Aurors made their way further into the school towards Professor McGonagall’s office.

The Great Hall began to murmur excitedly.

Hermione, Harry and Draco all shared a look with one another. Surely this had something to do with what they had brought to the professor’s attention.

“What do you reckon is going on?” Daphne asked as she covered her face, fighting a yawn.

“Not sure,” Draco replied. “Professor Snape left with McGonagall and Flitwick before you lot had arrived. They haven’t returned since.” He grabbed another slice of bacon, smirking at Daphne. Amused that he knew something she didn’t.

“I wonder what’s happened,” Pansy wondered aloud as she looked around the Great Hall.

The group of students continued to murmur amongst each other. 

Minutes later the group of aurors left the castle with a man handcuffed between the lot of them. 

Professor’s McGonagall, Snape, and Flitwick entered the Great Hall shortly after. McGonagall looked like she had seen a ghost, pale and grim-looking. She followed Professor Snape over to the Slytherin table, stopping as the two reached Hermione, Harry and Draco.

“Good morning,” she said tightly to the group of students. “Mr. Potter, I was wondering if I could have a word with you in my office. It won’t take too long. Your friends can wait for you in your common room.”

“Quickly, before Albus gets word, Minerva,” Snape muttered to her. 

She gave him a nod, smiling tightly at Harry.

Harry stood up from his seat and followed Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape out of the Great Hall.

~ | ~

Harry sat down in a chair in front of Professor McGonagall’s desk. He didn’t understand what Ron’s rat had to do with him, but he was willing to hear the two before he jumped to any conclusions.

“What’s going on, Professor?” Harry asked her quietly. He was watching her closely, taking in her tells. 

She was tense and appeared to be slightly frazzled. She straightened out a pile of assignments on her desk for the second time since Harry sat in the chair.

“It has been brought to both mine and Professor Snape’s attention that there has been a man here in disguise,” the stern witch began.

“Ron’s rat, you mean,” Harry supplied. “Hermione suggested Scabbers is an animagus, much like yourself, professor.”

Professor McGonagall nodded at Harry. “Yes. She was correct.” She paused. “Mr. Pettigrew has been arrested by the aurors just now. He is being taken to the ministry as we speak.” She looked to Professor Snape, unsure of how to carry on. 

“Mr. Pettigrew was friends with your parents, Mr. Potter,” Snape said quietly to him. 

Harry focused his attention onto his own Head of House, now watching him closely. 

“Almost ten years ago, it was believed that Mr. Pettigrew was killed by another one of your father’s friends, a man by the name of Sirius Black. Mr. Black was arrested and sent to Azkaban prison for the murder of Mr. Pettigrew as well as the murder of a dozen muggles.” Snape paused. “It has been brought to our attention that Mr. Pettigrew was in fact the secret keeper of your parents when they went into hiding with you when you were a baby. He confessed to the aurors as they arrested him.”

“What’s a secret keeper?” Harry asked.

“A charm is performed that can hide a location from everyone. The fidelius charm,” Professor McGonagall said to him. “The one individual who knows the location is referred to as the secret keeper.”

“Your parents were found by You-Know-Who, Harry.” Snape said to him quietly. “Pettigrew purposely gave up their location to him. That action led to your parents’ deaths.”

Harry inhaled sharply, eyes wide. 

He swallowed, trying to comprehend what they were telling him. He gave them both a nod to show he understood. 

He frowned. “What about that Sirius Black fellow, then? What happens to him?” Harry asked. “Is he the cousin Draco was talking about who’s trial begins this week? He said his mother told him that Sirius hadn’t received a trial yet.”

Both professors nodded at him. “Along with supposedly murdering Mr. Pettigrew and the twelve muggles, it was believed that Sirius was the secret keeper,” Professor McGonagall told him. “He and your father were the best of friends, Mr. Potter. Sirius Black is in fact your godfather.”

Harry nodded again. It was a lot for him to take in. “What happens now?”

“Now we wait for the trial to commence,” Professor Snape informed him. “It seems to me to be quite open and shut, with plenty of evidence to support Black’s story. We will have to wait to see what will happen. It is all we can do.”

Harry thought carefully. “If he’s my godfather does that mean he is to look after me?” He tried to keep the hope out of his voice. He really didn’t want to return to the Dursleys.

Professor McGonagall nodded at his question. “Yes it does, Mr. Potter. He technically is the only one who has the right to have custody of you. Not your aunt and uncle. The Wizarding world takes the role of godfather extremely seriously.” She paused. “Assuming he is innocent, I would bet that he will take you in to look after you. It may take him some time though. Azkaban is not a nice place to be, for anyone. He will need to be examined by healers first.”

Harry hummed in thought. He was cautious, not wanting to get his hopes up in case he would be disappointed. “Thank you both for letting me know what’s been going on. It’s greatly appreciated.”

Harry stood up from his seat and followed Professor Snape out of the office and towards the dungeons to his common room. He couldn’t wait to tell Hermione and Draco what he had learned.

~ | ~

Hermione sat at the Slytherin table Friday morning with both Harry and Draco. She needed to get a big breakfast in, this day was busy for the first year Slytherins. A full day of Herbology and History of Magic, followed by flying class after lunch. The only class she was not looking forward to. Flying felt unnatural to her, even after a few weeks of practise.

A murmuring began at the four tables, groups huddled together as students poured over the _Daily Prophet._

Hermione frowned and attempted to see what had caught so many people’s attention. She really should’ve gotten a subscription to the paper.

Theo hurried over to them after he grabbed a paper from one of the older students once they had finished reading it. He sat down in the middle of the group and began reading the paper out loud to them.

“Sirius Black framed! The Head of the House of Black found innocent of all crimes,” Theo read aloud. “Sirius Black was believed to have been guilty of the murders of twelve muggles and one Peter Pettigrew. Word reached the _Daily Prophet_ that Mr. Black had not received a trial nearly a decade ago when he was initially arrested. Instead, he was sent directly to Azkaban prison.” Theo took a quick breath before carrying on excitedly. “An anonymous source recently came forward and suggested that Mr. Black may in fact be innocent. His attorney — one Stevenson Avery — found evidence that Mr. Black was treated unjustly and demanded that his client receive the trial he was entitled to. It’s a good thing he did so. Pettigrew was found very much alive, hiding with a Wizarding family as a pet rat - an unregistered animagus.”

“It is understood by the _Daily Prophet_ that Pettigrew was in fact a spy for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, and had been providing the dark wizard with secret information for quite sometime before he fell on Halloween night in 1981.” Theo paused, catching his breath. “Mr. Black was released late last night from custody after the Wizengamot found him not guilty, and is currently undergoing treatment from a private healer. Peter Pettigrew is now awaiting his trial for the murder of the twelve muggles which occurred back in November of 1981, as well as for his position as a spy for He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a true nod to his animagus form indeed. More news to follow.”

Hermione grasped Harry’s hand tightly as Theo finished reading the short article. They grinned at each other, unable to hide their excitement. He would be getting his godfather back.

Hermione took a quick look at her watch after she noticed a number of students beginning to leave the Great Hall. “We have to get ready for Herbology and History of Magic, Harry. We need to go get our books.”

The group of Slytherin students left the Great Hall, heading to their common room before they began their classes for the day.

~ | ~

The group of Slytherin and Gryffindor students lined up next to two rows of school brooms outside in the training grounds. Madam Hooch was lecturing the students on the proper way in which to mount a broom.

“Extend your right arm out to the side of you and say ‘up’ with as much confidence as you can,” Madam Hooch told the nervous first years.

Harry cleared his throat and extended his arm out to the side of him. “Up!” 

The broom next to him rushed into his grip almost instantly. The same happened for Draco next to him. 

Ron Weasley was also one of the first students to grasp his broom. 

Harry turned his head slightly to listen to Hermione on the other side of him. Her voice wavering and her hand shaking as she attempted to gain control of the broomstick.

“Sound more confident, Hermione. You got this,” Harry said to her in what he hoped was an encouraging tone.

Hermione gave him a nod, focused. “Up!” She said clearly to her broom. The broom flew up into her hand. She grinned at Harry, happy that she was able to finally do it.

“Splendid!” Madam Hooch said to the group of students once everyone had gained control of their brooms. “Now, I want each of you to carefully throw a leg over your broomstick and wait for me to give you further directions. We will all begin to hover above the ground together as a class.” She watched as her students did as they were told. “Wonderful. Now, on the count of three I want each of us to softly push off from the ground. _Softly!_ We just want to hover, we don’t want to shoot up in the air. Not yet.” Madam Hooch looked at the students sternly. “One, two, and three.”

Hermione shot up quickly from the ground, screaming as she did so.

“No! Miss Granger, get back down here,” screeched Madam Hooch.

Harry watched in shock as Hermione took off on the school broom, screaming as she flew closer towards the wall of the castle. 

Hermione flew into the wall before Madam Hooch could get to her. 

She lost her grip as a result of the crash and tumbled off of her broom towards the hard ground. Hitting it with a thud.

Harry, Draco, and the other students ran towards the witch. 

Harry heard her cry out as she sat up on the ground. Madam Hooch was kneeling beside her, helping her stand up. Hermione was clutching her arm as she returned to her feet. Her head lightly bleeding from a small abrasion.

“I need to take Miss Granger to the hospital wing,” Madam Hooch said sternly. Her voice quivering with emotion. “No one leaves here. No one leaves the ground. I will be back in a jiffy.” She hurried off with the crying girl towards the hospital wing.

“How pathetic. And she thinks she knows everything,” Ron Weasley sneered at the group. “Obviously the know-it-all doesn’t know it all.” He chuckled to his friends.

“Stuff it, Weasley,” Draco drawled loudly. He made his way closer to the red headed boy. “Hermione was nervous and these brooms are horrible. Although, I suppose they’re better than the brooms that you are used to flying. Tell me _Weaselbee,_ have you ever flown a broom that was constructed in the last fifty years?” Draco’s eyebrow rose in question as he watched the Gryffindor with a smirk.

“Piss off, Death Eater!” Ron growled at him, his face matching his red hair from both embarrassment and anger. He made to rush both Draco and Harry, only to find Neville Longbottom and Seamus Finnigan holding him back.

Draco chuckled. “Your friends are smart, Weaselbee. You wouldn’t last five seconds with me.”

Ron tried again to attack Draco and Harry. Swearing rudely at his Gryffindor friends holding onto him tightly.

“Draco, stop egging him on. He’s only trying to start a fight,” Harry muttered to him. 

He was familiar with Ron’s behaviour from his time in primary school. He just wanted the attention.

“You don’t know anything, Potter!” Weasley yelled at him. “I can’t believe I thought you were a friend. You’re just as dark as Malfoy here.”

“I haven’t done anything, you git.” Harry rolled his eyes, exasperated. “You’re the one who wants nothing to do with me because I ended up in a different house from you. I’m eleven. We both are. What could I possibly be doing that’s dark? What makes you any different from the pureblood supremacists you keep harping on about? You’ve judged me unfairly the moment I was sorted into Slytherin House. You’ve judged Hermione, and bullied her, because she is smarter than you. She’s smarter than everyone here, Ron. You’re the only one who has a problem with her intelligence,” Harry ranted at the redheaded boy. “It’s pathetic, really.” 

Harry shook his head and rolled his eyes at the boy he sat with on the train ride to the school. The boy he shared his sweets with. So much had changed and he didn’t understand why.

“You don’t know anything, Potter. You don’t understand how it is,” Ron said. “I’ll make you a deal though. You and me, we race to the tree over there and back. You win, I’ll leave you and your little _girlfriend_ alone.” Ron smirked at Harry. “Scared?”

“Of you?” Harry snorted. “Not at all, Ron. Let’s go.” He grabbed his broom, mounted it and took off with Ron right beside him.

The two flew across the training grounds at breakneck speeds. 

Harry leaned forward on his broom to get better acceleration. He leaned to the side as he raced around the tree, pushing harder as he raced back towards the castle. 

Ron close behind. 

Harry could hear him swearing once again as he began to pull away.

The pair arrived back near the class of first years. 

Harry landed before Ron as he pulled up and dismounted as quickly as he could. He scurried over to Draco and the other Slytherin students, trying desperately to blend in.

Professor McGonagall was racing towards the group of first year students.

“Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley get over here!” The professor cried out. Her hair was falling out of her bun as she raced closer to the pair of students.

Harry let out a long breath as he began the trek over to the professor. Ron followed him slowly. “Professor,” he greeted her with a small grin as he ruffled up his already windswept, messy hair.

McGonagall peered at Harry over her glasses. A frown forming. Harry noticed a twitch of her lips, like she was fighting a grin.

“Ten points from both Slytherin and Gryffindor for _obvious_ rule-breaking. Madam Hooch informed all the students to stay on the ground until she returned from the hospital wing.” She paused. “I also heard both yours and Mr. Weasley’s argument.” She peered at Ron as he shuffled his feet, refusing to make eye contact with his Head of House. “I am ashamed of your behaviour Mr. Weasley. A weeks’ worth of detention with me sounds appropriate. Every night at seven, except for Wednesday’s because of your astronomy class at that time.”

“Yes, Professor McGonagall,” Ron muttered as he kicked at the ground.

“Look at me, Mr. Weasley,” Professor McGonagall said sternly. She waited until Ron looked up at her before giving him a small smile. “Go back to the class and please think about what you’ve said to Mr. Potter. I know you’re better than that. Prove it. You may go,” she waved him off and watched as Ron made his way back towards the group of students.

She peered down at Harry. “Follow me, Mr. Potter. We have to go see your Head of House.” She turned and led the way into the castle and into the dungeons. Harry following closely behind.

He was nervous. He knew Professor Snape didn’t like him much. While he had always given him his daily nutrient potion, the professor enjoyed calling him out to answer insanely advanced questions during his class. Scowling when Harry answered them correctly. He had learned from his first class with the professor when he didn’t know the correct answers to his questions.

Harry sighed as they reached Professor Snape’s office. Professor McGonagall knocked sharply on the door.

“Enter.”

Professor McGonagall opened the door and stepped aside to allow Harry access into the small office. 

Harry held his breath as he stepped into the room.

Snape was grading papers at his desk. He raised an eyebrow at Harry, before turning his attention to Professor McGonagall.

“What is it, Minerva?” He questioned quietly, setting his quill aside and giving his guests his complete attention.

“I have found Slytherin a quidditch player!” The Head of Gryffindor said with a grin. “You need a new seeker, do you not?” She asked him. “Potter is the perfect fit.”

“What?” Harry was confused. He didn’t understand what McGonagall was playing at. He looked at Professor Snape, trying to tell him nonverbally that he had no clue what was going on.

“And why would the Head of Gryffindor want to help out the Slytherin quidditch team?” The potions professor asked. His hands steepled in front of his face.

Harry looked back at McGonagall to see her reaction. Snape did have a point.

“I do want to give you the best chance I can, Severus. It looks better for Gryffindor if they beat a team that is good, rather than only teams who are merely average,” Professor McGonagall quipped dryly.

Professor Snape began chuckling. He gave McGonagall a curt nod of his head. “The same bet as last year?” The potions professor asked her, an eyebrow raised in question.

Professor McGonagall grinned and nodded her head. “I do enjoy the muggle scotch you have to buy me every year. It is quite good.”

“Expensive too,” Snape added on, pinching the bridge of his nose. He looked at Harry and frowned. “This doesn’t mean you can slack off in your classes. There are rules in Slytherin House. Poor grades mean you are off the team. I’ll let Marcus know later tonight. He will want to train you as soon as he can.” He turned his attention back to McGonagall. “I trust your judgment. I hope it isn’t for naught.”

“Hang on,” Harry said to the two adults. “I’m just a first year. We aren’t allowed brooms. It says so on the school lists we got over the summer.”

Snape and McGonagall both waved him off. 

“Potter, that is something I can easily work around,” Snape reassured him. “You needn’t worry. Get back to class. Not a word to _anyone_ until Marcus Flint approaches you. Understood?”

“Sir.” Harry gave him a nod of his head. He turned and left the small office to head back towards the training grounds.

He had no idea what he had just witnessed.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Hermione quietly made her way back to the Slytherin common room, with her arm held in a sling. Madam Pomfrey had told her she needed to keep it in one for the next twenty-four hours — until the skele-grow potion finished working. 

Her arm was tingly, but was no longer broken and no longer hurt. One of the perks of magic, Hermione supposed. 

She had also hit her head in the fall. Not _too_ hard, thankfully. Certainly nothing that would’ve caused lasting damage – but she had needed a potion to heal her wound. 

Hermione sighed as she made her way down the stairs deep into the dungeons.

Classes were still in session, for a few more minutes at least and Hermione wanted to make it to the common room before everyone else would fill the hallways. She didn’t want to have to answer any questions from anyone. 

She was humiliated.

“Pureblood,” she murmured to the blank wall. The door to the Slytherin common room appeared and she pushed it open to enter into her home away from home. 

The common room had a few students scattered about, all pouring over books, working on their assignments. All upper year students.

Hermione attempted to make it to her dormitory without anyone noticing her. 

She just wanted to be alone.

“Granger,” a voice called out. 

“Hermione.” An older student made their way over to her taking in her appearance. “Has someone hurt you?” The student had a worried look in their eyes.

Hermione stopped in the middle of the room, still a fair distance from the stairs to her dormitory. She looked at the student who had drawn the attention of the entire room. She shook her head. Sniffing. “No,” she quietly answered. “I’m fine.”

“What happened then?” Another student asked her, frowning. He had an odd appearance – a large, crooked nose and buck teeth. _Unattractive_ was the first word that entered her mind as she took in the student.

“I fell off my broom,” she quietly admitted as she looked down at the floor. 

They were all going to laugh at her. She knew it. It would be exactly like her muggle school with the kids who made a point to tease her because of her hair and teeth. Because of her love of books.

“Granger… I’ve fallen off my broom loads of times and I’m quidditch captain. You’ve nothing to be embarrassed about,” the boy said to her with a grin.

Hermione shook her head. “I did it in flying class in front of everyone. Not during a quidditch game where I got knocked off my broom by another person. I flew it into the wall and landed in a heap on the ground. Screaming the entire time I was in the air.” She snorted to herself. “I’ve plenty to be embarrassed about.”

“Not everyone is meant to fly, Granger,” another student piped up. Grin on her face. “I can’t. I know that, so I don’t do it. It doesn’t take anything away from you as a witch. From what I’ve heard from the other first years, you are brilliant at everything else.” The girl shrugged. “Flying’s overrated anyway when we can just apparate, floo, or portkey everywhere.” She gave Hermione a wink.

Another student gasped, clutching their chest in a dramatic fashion. “Flying’s overrated? You’ve broken my heart, Celeste.”

The group of older students chuckled. 

Hermione’s face broke into a grin, unable to fight it off.

“There she is,” the girl named Celeste said with a smile.

Hermione gave the group of older students a small smile. “Thank you,” she told the group of older students quietly. “I’m going to go to my dormitory. I’d like to write to my parents, I haven’t in a few days.”

Hermione made her way into her dormitory, carefully pulled out a piece of parchment, ink well, and quill out of her school bag to begin her letter to her parents. She made her way over to the side of her bed, placed the parchment and writing supplies on the side table and took a seat.

She sighed, frowning. Her parents had gotten her an owl so she could tell them about her time at the school. She had only written then a couple of times so far, distracted from all the new things she was learning and confused about all she had learned from the sorting hat.

Hermione got to work on her letter, quill quickly scratching away. Pausing occasionally to figure out the proper wording to ask her parents some difficult questions. 

She needed to bring up her knowledge that she knew she was adopted. That she knew she wasn’t theirs naturally. She needed to do it delicately. 

Hermione hummed to herself quietly as she finished up her letter. She set her quill down and had begun re-reading the letter.

The door to the dormitory flew open. Pansy, Daphne, Tracey and Millicent all made their way inside.

“How’re you doing, Hermione?” Tracey Davis asked her as she placed her scarf at the end of her bed. She refused to go anywhere outside without it, much to the other girls’ amusement.

“Better,” Hermione replied. “Madam Pomfrey was able to fix me up in a jiffy.” She motioned to the sling around her arm. “I just have to wear this until the tingling stops.”

The witch nodded in understanding, giving Hermione a kind smile.

“Weasley lost Gryffindor ten house points _and_ got detention with McGonagall,” Pansy informed her grinning. “He said some rubbish about you after Madam Hooch took you to the hospital wing.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. 

Of course Weasley said rude things about her. He’d been doing so the moment they both arrived at Hogwarts. Accusing her of being a know-it-all — like being intelligent was an insult. 

He was jealous, she knew. Jealous that she was friends with Harry. Like he was some sort of commodity, rather than a person.

“Draco and Harry stuck up for you. We all were about to,” Pansy quickly informed her. “They just reacted quicker than us.” She paused. “Anyway, Weasley challenged Harry to a fly around, in order to leave you alone. Harry beat him fair and square before McGonagall came rushing out of the castle. She took points off of Slytherin as well. But, that’s alright. We’ll get those back in the next few classes. It’s no big deal.”

“He still shouldn’t have broken school rules.” Hermione frowned. “I heard Hooch clearly tell everyone to stay on the ground until she got back to the training grounds. He’s lucky he didn’t get in trouble.”

Daphne shrugged. “McGonagall _did_ take him to see Professor Snape. He might’ve gotten a detention or something, like Weasley did from McGonagall.”

“Perhaps Professor Snape gave him a slow-acting poison,” Millicent suggested dryly. The whole of Slytherin was aware of the disdain their Head of House had for the Boy-Who-Lived.

Hermione chuckled. “Unlikely. It would rouse far too much suspicion on himself. His feelings towards Harry are well-known even outside of Slytherin House.” She thought of how the professor, without failure, was always there to give Harry his nutrient potion for the night. He was always there making sure Harry was doing alright – Hermione as well – in Slytherin House. 

Yet, during class time, Professor Snape was a right arse. Rude and surly. Belittling Harry in front of his peers. 

It was very contradictory. Very confusing. It was difficult to get a good read on their Head of House.

Hermione narrowed her eyes in thought. There had to be a good reason for Snape’s behaviour. One that her and Harry didn’t understand just yet.

“What are you working on, Hermione?” Pansy motioned towards Hermione’s finished letter to her mother and father.

“Just a letter to mum and dad.” Hermione gave her friend a small smile in response, folding up the letter before Pansy could read any of it. 

She was friends with all of the girls in her dormitory, but she was still cautious. 

Only Harry, Professor Snape, and the seventh year prefects knew about her situation. About what the sorting hat told her about herself. She preferred to keep it that way until she understood more of what was going on. 

“I want to send it off before we head to the Great Hall for dinner.” She grabbed her quill once more and quickly scratched her parents’ names on the envelope she stuffed her letter into.

“Well, dinner is about to begin,” Tracey said to her. “I’ll walk with you to the owlery and then we can meet the others in the Great Hall.”

“”Thank you,” Hermione said gratefully to her dorm mate. 

She truly didn’t want to be a burden on the other girls, but understood she shouldn’t walk anywhere alone. 

Professor Snape had suggested to the younger students to try to travel in pairs if they were able to, after a spike in hexed students that appeared to be directed solely at Slytherin House. Courtesy of Fred and George Weasley – the third year menaces. 

Hermione knew she had probably already pushed her luck already walking back from the hospital wing by herself.

…

* * *

…

“Hello Einstein,” Hermione cooed to the fluffy little owl as it hopped down from its perch. “I’ve a letter for mum and dad, alright? I need you to make sure you stay with them until they reply.” She began carefully attaching her letter to her owl’s leg. It was difficult to tie the letter well – due to her arm still in the sling. Luckily for her, Einstein was patient.

He ruffled his feathers once she was finished and took off out of the owlery.

“Einstein’s an interesting name,” Tracey said to her as they made their way towards the Great Hall for dinner. “Where did you come up with it?”

Hermione came to a halt. She had named her owl before she came to Hogwarts. “I read about him in a book. My mother gave me a biography about him. It really stuck with me.”

Tracey gave her a sly grin. “Yes… but Einstein was a muggle. A muggle scientist. A physicist to be specific. Your mum gave you a biography about a muggle?” she asked. “Is your mum muggleborn?”

“What’s it to you?” Hermione questioned in response.

Tracey held up her hands in surrender. “My mum’s a pureblood witch and my dad’s a muggleborn. I do understand why you’re hesitant to tell us anything about your family. I understand more than you think. But you have to understand: we are Slytherins, and Slytherins always stick together. We always have each other’s backs. Always.”

Hermione frowned, cautious. “My mother just likes to read everything she can get her hands on. Muggle or magical – it doesn’t matter to her.” She shrugged. “Like mother, like daughter I suppose you could say.”

“Really?” Tracey asked her, eyebrows raised. Her disbelief evident in her tone.

“Yes really.” Hermione frowned at her dorm mate – her friend. Refusing to say anything more on the subject. “Come. Dinner has already started. We don’t want to be too late. Crabbe and Goyle will have eaten everything.”

She hooked her friend’s hand in the crook of her elbow and the two girls made their way towards the Great Hall together.

…

* * *

…

“But that’s against the rules!” Hermione hissed at Harry in a barely restrained shriek.

“I know that Hermione. But, he said he’d be able to work around it.” Harry attempted to calm her down. “I don’t know how. McGonagall reacted in the exact same way. Like it wasn’t a big deal or anything. They both waved me off. My worries, my hesitations.” He paused, still trying to wrap his head around what he witnessed in the office of their Head of House. “They’re _friends_ or something. They were joking with each other. Bantering, if you will. It was the strangest thing I’ve _ever_ seen.” 

Harry shook his head at the memory.

_“Friends?”_ Hermione hissed at her friend. “But they’re the heads of different Houses – they’re Gryffindor and Slytherin. Arch enemies according to everyone here. They’re never friends. It would go against Hogwarts tradition. Gryffindor and Slytherin have always been against each other.” She looked to the other students seated at the table with her and Harry.

Draco nodded in agreement. A frown marring his face. 

Theo’s eyebrows scrunched together as if in thought. 

Harry just shrugged at her, his hands splayed in front of him on the dark table. He obviously didn’t know what to make of the situation.

“Although,” Hermione muttered more to herself than her friends. “Professor McGonagall _has_ always been fair to all the students, regardless of their House.”

Harry nodded his head in agreement. “The other professors, too.” He frowned. “I’ve never had any issue with them, save for Quirrell. But, that’s for an entirely different reason.” He met Hermione’s gaze. “The older students said that he’ll be gone by the end of the year. It’s tradition apparently.”

“Tradition?”

Draco gave her a curt nod and a smirk. “Defence professors don’t stay here longer than a year. The position is cursed I’ve heard.”

Hermione frowned at the new information. On the one hand, she was thankful to not have to apparently deal with Professor Quirrell for another year — being as incompetent as he was. But, on the other hand she liked her routine. Having to deal with a new professor year after year would be a pain.

After a moment of quiet chatter, the group of first years got back to work on their homework. 

Hermione was plugging away on her History homework. She loved learning about the history of the magical world in Britain, but having Professor Binns as the professor was dreadfully boring. For everyone. Earlier in the week she had to pinch Harry’s arm to keep him awake after she noticed he was nodding off.

She continued to read up on the Dark Wizard Emeric the Evil. He had been alive during the Middle Ages before being slaughtered in a duel with Egbert the Egregious. Apparently he had been the owner of the Elder Wand. She frowned. She didn’t understand what the big deal was about an elder wand. She was sure there were plenty of elder wands around. She shrugged to herself and made a note of it anyway.

“I can’t wait to tell my mother about what Professor Snape and McGonagall decided when you got caught flying,” Draco said after a few minutes of quiet studying. He chuckled as he read his potions textbook. “She loves quidditch.”

“Really?”

Draco gave Harry an enthusiastic nod of his head. “She wasn’t allowed to play it when she was at Hogwarts — her parents wouldn’t allow it. But, she follows the games very closely. Pride of Portree is her favourite professional team.”

“I really have no idea how to play quidditch,” Harry said worriedly. Hermione looked up from her textbook to watch him. “I had to ask Marcus Flint what a seeker did. He was shocked I didn’t know.”

Hermione grinned. It would be interesting to see Harry fly. Interesting to see what Professor McGonagall saw when he was in the air.

“You’re a natural on a broom, Harry,” Theo said from the other side of the table. Draco nodding in agreement. “Just think how you’ll fly when you get a new broom.”

“Marcus said to get one sooner rather than later,” Harry murmured quietly. “It’s only a month or so before the season begins. I’ll need to get used to it.”

“Nimbus brooms are great brooms,” Draco suggested. “Cleansweep brooms aren’t too shoddy either.” Hermione watched as he frowned. “For seeker, I would recommend a Nimbus. You’ll need to be quick to get the snitch before the other seeker.”

Harry nodded. “Should I put an order in?”

“Just wait a few days,” Draco smirked. “You won’t need it right tomorrow.”

Hermione returned her focus back to her homework as the boys continued to chat about brooms and quidditch.

…

* * *

…

Hermione sat down at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall for a bit of breakfast. 

It had been just over a week since she sent her letter to her parents and she had yet to get a response. She needed to know where she came from; she couldn’t handle not-knowing something. The _Pureblood Directory_ was only so good – without knowing anything about her magical parents. She hadn’t a clue where to look. And that was assuming her magical parents were even pureblood.

She frowned to herself as she spread some jam on her toast. 

They could’ve been muggleborn or half-blood for all she knew. 

Maybe they ran away when You-Know-Who had gotten stronger? It fit with the time of her birth. What she didn’t understand though, was why they had left her behind if that were the case. It didn’t make sense.

Her attention was drawn to the sound of the mail arriving. She looked up at the owls and spotted a pair of them carrying a large, long package towards the Slytherin table.

“I didn’t realise you ordered your broom already, Harry,” she said to him as she took a bite of toast.

The birds set the package down carefully, allowing Draco and Harry to untie it from the two of them.

“I didn’t,” Harry admitted to her quietly. “I was going to order a broom this weekend.” 

Hermione watched him as he began to remove a thick letter sellotaped to the top of the package.

A hoot sounded nearby. Hermione turned towards the sound and found Einstein standing on her plate, watching her closely. A letter was tied carefully to his leg.

Hermione swallowed tightly as she removed the letter from her owl's leg. She offered up a slice of bacon to her familiar. He took it with a hoot of thanks before he flew off towards the owlery for some much needed rest.

Her hands shook slightly as she eyed her letter. Her mum and dad had responded. She swallowed the lump in her throat and tucked the letter into the pocket of her cloak. She couldn’t read it until she was somewhere private.

“It’s from Sirius,” Harry muttered to Hermione and Draco. His hands were shaking as he tried to read his letter. “He’s gotten me a broom. He heard about what happened during flying class from McGonagall and went out and bought me a broom.” Disbelief evident in his tone. Harry was obviously shocked at receiving such a gift.

Hermione placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“That’s what godfather’s are supposed to do Harry,” Draco kindly informed the raven-haired boy. “Look after you and spoil you as much as they can get away with.”

Harry gave him a jerky nod of his head.

“How about we head back to our common room and read our letters there,” Hermione suggested quietly. She hadn’t wanted to draw the attention of the Great Hall and even more students were arriving. Trickling in later than normal because it was the weekend.

“Yeah,” Harry croaked out. “That’s a good idea, Hermione.”

Hermione stood up from the bench and grabbed a second slice of toast. Harry and Draco followed suit. Harry tucking the package under his arm as he slipped his letter into his pocket.

Hermione watched as Marcus Flint, the quidditch captain, grinned at Harry as the trio made their way down the table.

“Good to see, Potter,” He muttered to him, nodding towards the broom under Harry’s arm. “Practise tomorrow at seven in the morning.”

Harry gave him a nod of his head. The trio exited the Hall and made their way into the dungeons.

Harry and Draco quickly made their way into the boys’ dormitory to drop off Harry’s broom before returning to the common room.

Hermione sat herself down near the window looking into the lake and pulled out her letter from her parents. Harry and Draco sat down in nearby chairs, all facing each other.

“Who’s that from, Granger?” Draco asked her once he spotted her letter in her hands.

“My mum and dad,” Hermione told him. Her hands were clammy. She was nervous. “I’ve asked them a question about something and this is their response.”

Harry looked up from his letter to watch Hermione closely. 

Hermione sighed as she tore open the envelope. She pulled the letter out and carefully unfolded it. She held it close to prevent anyone else from reading it over her shoulder and began to read.

> _Dearest Hermione,_
> 
> _Your father and I received your letter and we owe you an explanation._
> 
> _While we both prefer to have done this in person, we do understand your need to know._
> 
> _Your father and I were unable to conceive naturally. After years and years of trying, I was unable to get pregnant. As such, we began to look into adoption. We soon found you, just a baby, in an orphanage here in London. We fell in love with you instantly and quickly adopted you._
> 
> _To answer your questions: you were barely two months old when we first met you. The matrons at the orphanage said that you had arrived there in November of 1979. They had no other information as to who dropped you off. Just that you appeared to be well cared for. We met you a week after you first arrived in the beginning of December of that year. We adopted you officially one year later after taking you in and fostering you during that time._
> 
> _We apologise for not having any more information for you. That is all we know._
> 
> _Please know that we love you as if you were our own. We consider you to be our daughter in every way, biological or otherwise. We are terribly sorry for not telling you sooner, Hermione, that we had adopted you. It never seemed like the right time. I apologise that you had to find out about your adoption from a magical hat – your father and I should have informed you before you left for Hogwarts._
> 
> _We love you dearly and hope to continue to hear about your classes. They do seem incredibly interesting from what you have told us. Your father and I are aching to learn more about your wonderful world._
> 
> _Hope to hear from you soon,_
> 
> _Your loving Mother and Father_
> 
> _xoxo_

Hermione sighed as she finished her letter. It confirmed what she had already known, but it was nice to hear it from her parents – from her mother. She nodded to herself and tucked her thick hair behind her ears. 

A curl bounced free almost instantly.

“Okay?” Harry asked her carefully, trying to read her expression. His own letter clutched in his hand, forgotten.

Hermione nodded. “Yes,” she replied, clearing her throat. “It confirmed what I already knew.”

Harry nodded slowly. “But, nothing more?”

Hermione shook her head. “Nothing more,” she confirmed.

“What happened?” Draco asked, looking between the two of them.

Hermione sighed. She looked down at her hands in her lap. Quickly mentally working through the pros and cons of telling Draco her secret. 

He was someone that the prefects had told her to be careful around, but he had yet to spew any pureblood propaganda. 

In fact, he had repeatedly apologised to Harry about what he had called his mother on their first night at Hogwarts and had taken to asking Harry about life with muggles. It had been difficult for Hermione not to answer everything he asked about muggle life.

She swallowed, clearing her throat once more. She had made her decision. “I found out I was adopted the night of my sorting,” she said quietly to Draco. “The sorting hat informed me that my parents were magical. That they had hidden me away. I thought I was a muggleborn witch prior to that.” She watched Draco closely. He was obviously shocked. His eyes wide at the news. “My mum and dad just confirmed it for me. They said that they adopted me from an orphanage when I was only a few months old.”

Draco gaped at her. His mouth opening and closing. No sound coming out. He swallowed, frowning. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” he asked quietly. 

Hermione could hear the hurt in his voice.

“I was told that my parents hid me for a reason. That it was best to keep it private until I knew more,” Hermione told him. “Only Harry, Professor Snape and the seventh year prefects knew before now. Now, you do too.”

Draco swallowed again. He gave her a nod. “That’s understandable,” he replied. He gave her a grin. “Now I can ask you questions about muggles. I don’t have to ask Harry everything.”

Hermione chuckled dryly. “In private please. I don’t want to advertise my circumstances to everyone.”

Draco nodded in understanding and held up a hand in a placating gesture. “I won’t say a word to anyone. Not even my mother or father. I promise.” A pause. “Your magical parents hid you for a reason,” he reminded her quietly.

The trio continued to chat with each other. Harry took to reading out random things from his letter from his godfather as he worked his way through the long correspondence.

Hermione and Draco grinned at each other when Harry excitedly told them that Sirius asked if he could watch his first quidditch game of the season. 

They had done the right thing, the pair of them.

  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Harry sat down between Theo and Draco in the Great Hall early Friday morning, loading up his plate with eggs, sausages, toast, and half a peach in some sugary syrup. _Tinned peaches,_ he figured – just without the tin. Something that his Aunt Petunia loved to eat every morning. 

He was finally finished with his daily nutrient potion supplements from Professor Snape; something that his Head of House informed him of the night prior. He felt better than he had ever felt before, his ribs were no longer obvious when he removed his shirt. His elbows and knees less knobbly than before.

It was a good thing too, Harry realised. Quidditch season began the next day – Slytherin versus Gryffindor. He was already nervous and he still had a day to go. He still had a double potions class to get through before he could worry about quidditch. He refused to let it distract him – not with Professor Snape’s insistence of quizzing Harry at the beginning of every single potions class. 

After the first class, Harry had learned to prepare well ahead of what was being taught by the potions professor, and after the first class Harry had been able to answer every single question Snape threw at him.

“Ready for double potions?” Theo muttered to him as he bit into a sausage.

Harry nodded. “Yeah… I’ve read ahead quite far and taken notes on everything. I should be alright, I think.” He took a bite of toast, shrugging. “It’s all I can do really. Just prepare as much as I can so I don’t get caught out from the questions Professor Snape asks me every class.”

Theo shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t understand why he has it out for you. It’s a bit ridiculous really.” He paused, grinning. “At least you’re learning loads in the class, reading that far ahead.”

Harry chuckled. “I suppose that’s one way of looking at it.”

Movement at the head table caught his attention. Turning his head slightly to look he spotted the Headmaster take a seat. He was clothed in the most extravagant wizarding robes that Harry had ever seen. Multi-coloured and larger than life, with a matching hat.

Harry frowned. “Are the headmaster’s robes normal in the magical world?” he asked both boys. “I didn’t see anything quite like that during my visit to Diagon Alley, but perhaps I missed it.”

Draco snorted. “Not normal at all, Harry,” he informed his friend. “Usually they are a simple black, or some other dark colour.”

“It’s a law within the magical world,” Theo told him. “Wizards and witches having to wear robes that are simple, or dark, plain if you will, for when they travel through the muggle world. It’s needed so they don’t draw attention from muggles.”

“The fear is that if they drew attention from certain muggles, our world would be found out eventually, much like what happened hundreds of years ago during the witch hunts,” Hermione said as she sat down across from the group of boys. “The fear is that if the magical world was found out, muggles would hunt magical folk down. The law aims to prevent that from happening, I assume,” she looked to Theo for confirmation.

Theo nodded. “Exactly. Blending in rather than standing out.”

Harry hummed to himself. It made sense to him. Muggles could be dangerous, if they were anything like his aunt and uncle. 

He frowned. 

Magical people could be dangerous as well. You-Know-Who proved that. 

He needed to be careful not to over-generalise. He didn’t want to be like his aunt and uncle. Their hate for anything and anyone different from them. The two of them referring to him as _freak_ rather than by his name. 

He refused to be anything like them. He wanted to be better than that. Needed to be better than that.

A sharp, burning sensation cut into his forehead. 

Harry dropped his fork onto his plate, his ears ringing from the clattering. His hands clutched his forehead, trying to bring relief. Trying to protect. It felt as though someone had held a scorching fireplace poker to his forehead. To his scar.

He could hear murmuring nearby, but was unable to make out what anyone was saying. 

A hand on his shoulder, muttering in his ear. Harry hissed. It hurt so much. So much more than it had the first time it flared up in defence class. 

His eyes were clamped shut, preventing tears from streaking down his face.

The sensation suddenly disappeared, quicker than it had arrived. He could make out Hermione whispering to him, leaning across the table. Watching him, telling him it would be alright. Draco’s hand was squeezing his shoulder, trying to bring comfort to his friend.

Harry relaxed. He let out a breath. 

“I’m alright,” he told his friends. His voice was shaky. 

He removed his hands from his forehead and placed them back on the table in front of him. His palms were sweaty. He turned slightly to take in Draco next to him, his hand still resting on Harry’s shoulder.

“Thank you,” Harry said to the blond.

Draco gave him a nod as he removed his hand from his friend’s shoulder. “Was it always that bad?”

Harry shook his head. “No. I’ve never felt it that bad before. It was awful. I couldn’t hear anything either. Just pain; just burning in my scar.”

He looked over to the head table and spotted Professor Snape watching him closely. The hook-nosed professor broke eye contact with Harry and began watching Professor Quirrell carefully. 

The defence professor was chatting with the headmaster. 

Harry watched as he adjusted his turban carefully on his head while looking at Harry. 

He gave Harry a small, nervous smile and a jerky wave of his hand, greeting his student before returning his attention back to the headmaster.

“Strange,” Draco said as he helped himself to another glass of pumpkin juice.

“Very,” Hermione said from across the table. She too was watching Professor Quirrell, frowning as she did so.

The small group of Slytherin first years soon finished breakfast and made their way back down to the dungeons to grab the needed supplies for a double potions class.

Harry sat down at a work bench near the front of the room, pulling out his potions textbook, quill, ink well, and a piece of parchment, before dropping his school bag on the floor next to his chair. Hermione slid into her seat next to him.

“Ready?” she asked him as she straightened out her writing supplies in front of her.

“Yep… as I’ll ever be,” Harry replied.

The group of students waited quietly in the room. The first year Gryffindors had eventually joined them. The room was full, but Professor Snape had yet to show up. Harry took a look at his old watch that he had taken as his own after his cousin had gotten bored of it, noting that the class should have begun minutes ago. 

Snape was never late. _Ever._

There was a quiet murmuring throughout the classroom. The other students had also noticed the time. 

Harry shared a questioning look with Hermione before the door burst open and their potions professor barged in. His cloak billowing behind him.

“Apologies for my tardiness, I was speaking with the Headmaster,” Professor Snape drawled to the students as he made his way to the front of the classroom. “Today we will be working on the antidote to common poisons.” He waved his wand and the steps appeared on the blackboard at the front of the room. “Pay attention to the directions on the blackboard, noting the differences between the directions there and the ones in your textbook. Most notably are the differences in your ingredients.” He looked to Harry. “Potter… what are the differences? No looking at your open textbook.” The professor stepped in front of Harry and Hermione’s workbench, waiting for Harry to reply.

Harry squinted at the blackboard, the words were blurry, difficult to read. “Uh... honeywater, mint springs, mandrake,” he squinted more, leaning forward to see clearer. “…and lavender, Sir.”

Snape gave a subtle nod of his head in acknowledgement of Harry’s correct answer. “Good. Everyone, get the proper ingredients and begin your potions. It will take you the majority of class time to do so. Begin.”

The students began to rise from their seats to grab the ingredients they needed for their antidotes.

“Potter,” the professor called to him quietly. Harry turned to look at Snape. “I suggest you get new glasses over Winter Break. The blackboard shouldn’t be blurry from where you and Miss Granger are sitting.”

Harry frowned, words were always blurry from a distance. He hadn’t realised it was anything out of the ordinary. “Yes sir,” he said to his Head of House before he made his way to the storeroom to help Hermione gather their potions ingredients.

…

* * *

…

Harry sat quietly at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. He had a plate full of breakfast in front of him, as per Marcus Flint’s insistence, but couldn’t bring himself to eat any of it. He was going to be sick.

_Quidditch._ Why did he agree to play on the quidditch team? He had never played on a sports team before. Ever. Always too small or too strange to be picked for the team. He was just a small boy with glasses that he could barely see out of – he wasn’t an athlete.

Movement to his left. Marcus Flint sat down next to him. “Potter…you are going to need to eat that. You need your strength for the game. It can last for hours – no breaks.”

Harry sighed. His stomach was churning threateningly. “I-I don’t think I can Marcus. I think I’m going to be sick.”

Marcus nodded in understanding. “You’re nervous. That’s normal – it’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I don’t even understand why I was picked for quidditch. Honestly. I have never been on any muggle sports teams. Ever.” He paused, frowning. “What if it’s a mistake?”

He looked to the team captain, who was grinning at him.

“It’s no mistake, Harry.” Marcus patted him on his back as he stood back up from the bench. “Your father was a chaser for the Gryffindor team when he was here. It’s in your blood, whether you realise it or not.”

Harry’s mouth popped open in surprise. “Really?”

Marcus nodded. “Yes. He has trophies here. Quidditch Championship trophies – that sort of thing.” Another grin. “Just try to eat something. Toast or some eggs. Something to tie you over until after the match. We will head out as a team in a few minutes to get ready and then head to the quidditch pitch.”

Harry brought his attention back to the table and began nibbling on his eggs. They tasted like ash.

“You’ll be fine Harry,” Hermione called to him from the other side of the table. “Like Marcus said: it’s in your blood.” She gave him a small grin as she went to work on her breakfast.

“We’ll be cheering for you Harry,” Pansy said to him with a grin. “We even made a banner for the match.” 

She and Daphne chuckled at Harry’s shocked expression.

A few minutes passed before Marcus and the other team members stood up from the table.

It was time.

Draco and Theo both slapped Harry on the back. “Good luck, Harry.”

Harry rose from his spot at the table and made his way over to the team.

Marcus nodded at his team as they all gathered. “We will walk to the common room. Get changed into our gear, and head out to the locker rooms for a last minute meeting before the match begins.”

The group left the Great Hall together and made their way down to the dungeons.

…

* * *

…

Harry sat between Slytherin chaser Adrian Pucey and keeper Miles Bletchley on the hard, wood bench in the team changing room. Marcus was pacing back and forth in front of them.

“Our gameplay today is to score as many points as possible. We also must protect Potter.” He looked to Harry and game him a sly grin. “Harry – I’m going to ask you to wait to grab the snitch until we’re up by a decent number of points. Let’s say... fifty. That being said – if the Gryffindor seeker spots it before then, go after it even if we aren’t up by that much.”

Harry gave him a curt nod.

“Bole.” A large bloke looked up at Marcus. “It’s your job to protect Potter. At all costs. Follow him everywhere.” Bole nodded in understanding.

“Who’s the Gryffindor seeker?” Bletchley asked.

“Kenneth Towler – a third year,” Marcus informed the team. “Wood is obviously still keeper. Johnson, Bell and Spinnet are chasers. The Weasley twins are beaters.” He looked to his team. “They have a good team, but we have a better one. Potter’s place on our team is still relatively unknown – or should be at least. Wood the other day was trying to get me to let slip who it was. He might know now, with our team walk out of the Great Hall, but he’s had no time to prepare. He doesn’t know how well Harry flies. That will work in our favour.”

“Lastly, goggles on at all times – it’s cloudy and cold. And it’s starting to rain.” Marcus looked at his team once more. “Understood?”

“Yes captain!” The team collectively responded.

Harry tugged his goggles out of his jersey pocket. He frowned, he had never worn these before.

A whistle shrilled in the distance.

“It’s time.” Marcus grunted. He stepped closer to Harry and adjusted his goggles. “Good?” he asked him quietly.

“Perfect,” Harry exclaimed. He reached over to grab his broom. He was ready.

The Slytherin team made their way out of the locker room, following their captain onto the pitch. The Gryffindor team made their way onto the pitch from the opposite side. 

They too were ready for the rain. 

The teams gathered in the centre of the pitch. Madam Hooch waiting for them.

“Captains shake hands!” She yelled above the roar of the crowd.

Wood and Flint stepped closer and shook each other’s hand.

“Now, I want a nice fair game, all of you,” Madam Hooch said once the team captains finished their handshake. She was glaring at Flint as she said it. 

Harry frowned, he wondered what that was about.

“Mount your brooms!” Madam Hooch yelled out once again.

Harry threw a leg over his Nimbus Two Thousand. His hands tight on the neck of his broom. 

The wind was beginning to pick up. The rain becoming more pronounced.

Madam Hooch reached down and released the snitch first. It flew around both Harry and Kenneth Towler, giving them both a look before taking off. 

The bludgers were released next, whooshing out of the case they were strapped in. 

Madam Hooch held the Quaffle in her hands before blowing her whistle hard and throwing the quaffle high into the air.

The game had begun.

Harry flew high above the quidditch pitch, just like Flint had told him during practise, and watched the game proceed.

The announcer — Lee Jordan — was currently introducing the players for the two teams. Harry heard his name being mentioned, but purposely tuned out the voice over the loudspeaker and remained focused on his task. His _role_ on the team.

He paid attention to the Gryffindor seeker, noting that he was following Harry closely. He flew back and forth along the pitch, watching as Gryffindor scored the first goal.

“TEN TO ZERO FOR GRYFFINDOR!” The voice over the loudspeaker rang out. 

The crowd roared. Professors clapped.

Harry wiped at his goggles, it was somewhat difficult to see through the rain. He sped back and forth along the pitch, high above the action. Towler following suit.

A bludger zoomed towards Harry, forcing him to lean back to avoid being hit.

Bole appeared next to him and wacked the bludger towards the Gryffindor keeper. “Sorry about that, Harry!” He called out as he backed off, alert to the goings on in the game.

Flint used the distraction of the bludger coming Wood’s way to score a goal for Slytherin.

“SLYTHERIN SCORES! THEY’VE TIED IT UP… TEN– TEN!” Lee Jordan yelled out to the crowd.

The minutes ticked by, Harry on high alert for the snitch. 

It was cold. Freezing. He just wanted the game to end. 

Slytherin were able to score two more times, leading Gryffindor thirty to twenty when a glint caught Harry’s eye from the other side of the pitch. The Gryffindor seeker spotted it as well and was off like lightning. Harry close behind and quickly gaining.

“BOTH SEEKERS HAVE SPOTTED THE SNITCH!” The voice over the loudspeaker rang out.

Harry dropped into a dive, following the snitch down. Towler right next to him. Them both reaching out, trying to grasp the snitch that was just out of reach. Mocking the two of them as it approached the ground. 

Closer and closer.

Towler pulled up a good ten feet before the ground. Harry pushed further and pulled up as soon as he grasped the tiny ball. His feet dragging along the pitch. His arm held high in the air, indicating to all present that he had caught the snitch.

The crowd roared. Deafening. 

“POTTER HAS CAUGHT THE SNITCH! SLYTHERIN WINS ONE HUNDRED EIGHTY TO TWENTY!”

He grinned as he slowed down. Hand still high in the air. A wide grin on his face. His teammates racing towards him, yelling and laughing as they met him in the middle of the pitch.

“We won! We won!” Voices rang out.

Harry was hugged and slapped across the back. Surrounded by a sea of green and silver. The spectators were beginning to enter onto the pitch. Hermione and the other first year Slytherins rushing towards the team. Banners and flags billowing behind them.

Harry watched, breathless as Hermione pushed her way through the crowd, her eyes not leaving Harry’s. Finally she reached him and pulled him into a tight hug.

“You did it Harry!” She yelled over the noise. Her face covered in green and silver face paint.

Draco and Theo were next, hugging Harry and laughing at the win.

“That was awesome flying, Harry,” Draco laughed. “No wonder you made the team.”

Harry’s face hurt from his smiling. He had never felt this way before. This happy.

Theo leaned over to speak to Draco. “Your mum’s just off to the side. Someone is with her.”

Both Draco and Harry turned to look.

Off to the side of the pitch stood a regal looking woman and a young man. Long, jet black hair and pale eyes. Leaning heavily on a cane. The ghost of a smile on his face.

Sirius. His godfather.

Harry broke away from the group and made his way towards them. A tickling familiarity running through his head as he looked at his godfather. 

He knew him. Remembered him. 

A long forgotten memory of a man trying to feed Harry baby food. A big black dog play wrestling with him on the living room floor. Laughter. His laughter ringing out as the dog licked his face.

A man’s voice off in the distance. _“Padfoot, that’s disgusting.”_

More laughter.

Harry stopped just in front of his godfather, looking up at him with a curious expression on his face.

“Padfoot?” He asked quietly, already knowing the answer.

Sirius made a noise. Something between a laugh and a cry and gave Harry a curt nod of his head.

“Hello Harry,” he croaked out. His voice struggling to get the words out. Tight with emotion.

“I remember,” Harry informed him quietly; in awe. “I remember you.”

Sirius grinned at Harry. His hands twitching, unsure what they should do. “That was some flying… you’re a natural.” He grinned. “Did you want to go somewhere to talk, Harry?” He asked him carefully.

Harry nodded. It was something he wanted more than anything. Letters only did so much.

He wanted to know everything he could about this man. Remembering what Professors McGonagall and Snape said to him a month ago. This man was his guardian. He was responsible for Harry. For looking after Harry. “I’d like that a lot,” he told him.

“Ah,” an old voice rang out behind Harry. “I see the two of you have found one other at last.”

Harry turned to look at Albus Dumbledore standing behind him. Hermione and the other Slytherin students standing just behind the Headmaster.

“That’s right,” Sirius ground out. 

Harry could hear the strain in his voice. His godfather was weary of the Headmaster.

“Forgive me if I am overstepping, but you are most welcome to use my office to catch up with one other. It is quiet, and we will be able to talk about some things in private.” The Headmaster grinned at Harry, his blue eyes twinkling. “That was excellent flying Mr. Potter. Congratulations on your win.”

“Thanks,” Harry said dryly. 

He was uncomfortable around the man. Unsure what he wanted with him.

“Is the Headmaster’s office alright, Harry?” Sirius drew his attention back to him.

Harry nodded. “Lead the way.”

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Sirius slowly made his way towards the castle. He was still getting used to walking with a cane — a temporary thing for him, the healer assured him. He just needed it until he was able to build up more strength. More muscle. 

He hadn’t really walked much in the last decade, other than around his tiny prison cell, and found that his legs burned or gave out even with the shortest of distances.

Harry and his friends had run back to their common room. Harry, to change out of his quidditch uniform before he’d meet Sirius at the gargoyle marking the entrance to the headmaster’s office.

“You do know why he wants to speak to both you and Harry in his office, don’t you?” Narcissa asked him quietly as they stepped up the last few steps of the main entrance.

Sirius snorted. “Of course I do. Manipulative, old coot.”

Narcissa chuckled dryly at his comment. “You know… for someone who was a member of Albus Dumbledore’s _not-so-secret_ secret group, you sure don’t like him very much.”

Sirius stopped, turning to look at his cousin. “Well, it was either him or Voldemort, so…” He raised a single brow, watching her reaction.

Narcissa twitched at the use of the name.

Sirius ignored her reaction and continued on. “I figured he was the lesser of two evils at the time, Cissa. Not saying he’s a bad person, just a manipulative one. He views people — members of the Order, friends, and colleagues — as chess pieces. As being dispensable. I knew he was like that the moment I met him. You and I both grew up in that type of environment — it’s really nothing new.” He paused, rubbing his face. “I just really underestimated how far he would go with it until it was too late. That was my mistake and mine alone.”

Sirius started walking once more and entered into the school, holding the door open for Narcissa to enter before him, remembering his manners. He sighed as he walked past the Great Hall and made his way towards the grand staircases. 

The pair of them passed by the defeated Gryffindor quidditch team, Sirius giving them all a nod of his head in greeting. He knew he should feel bad for their loss, being a former Gryffindor, but he couldn’t hide his pride for his godson.

Harry was a better seeker than the Gryffindor boy. It had cost them the win and they knew it.

“What’s with the name that Harry called you on the pitch? What does _Padfoot_ mean?” Narcissa asked him as they slowly made their way up the stairs. 

Both oblivious to the shocked expressions on the faces of the Weasley twins.

Sirius barked in laughter. “Just a nickname I had in school for my animagus form. Big, black dog — it was either Padfoot or The Grim for me. I thought Padfoot sounded _cooler.”_ He shrugged, continuing up the stairs.

The pair slowly made their way higher in the castle. Sirius was beginning to gasp for breath. 

“Bloody stairs will be the death of me,” he muttered more to himself than Narcissa.

Eventually the pair made it to the West Towers. Draco, a curly-haired girl who was no longer sporting green and silver face paint, and another boy — a Nott if Sirius knew his families as well as he thought he did — were waiting in front of the gargoyle marking the entrance to the headmaster’s office.

Sirius frowned. Harry wasn’t there.

“He went up to Dumbledore’s office already. The headmaster insisted,” the curly-haired girl said to him and Narcissa.

Sirius’ stomach lurched. _What the hell was Albus playing at?_

“Professor McGonagall went up with him. Said she needed to speak to the headmaster anyway,” Draco informed the two with a smirk.

Sirius grinned, relaxing at that information. Nothing got by Minnie. “Did you lot want to come up as well?”

The curly-haired girl grimaced. “We were told by the headmaster to wait out here. That it was a _private_ discussion.”

Sirius shook his head. _“Nonsense._ It’s important that Harry has a support system around him.” He frowned, thinking. _What was Albus going to pull in there?_ _He must understand that he had no say in Harry’s living arrangements._

Shaking his concern away, Sirius smiled at the three first year Slytherins. “You and Draco were the ones that asked Narcissa about me, right?” He asked the curly-haired witch. 

The girl nodded. 

“Thank you for that, by the way. I’m forever in your debt.” 

He continued to look at her. She looked familiar to him, but not enough for him to figure out where he recognised her from. 

Narcissa had mentioned she was of the Dagworth-Granger family, but he couldn’t see the resemblance. 

If his memory was correct, the Dagworth-Granger family had reddish-blonde hair, and it was usually straight. This girl’s hair was a huge mass of curls — and it was brown. 

She wasn’t a Dagworth-Granger. There was no way.

The girl scratched at her head, frowning as she did so.

“Hermione, this is my mother Narcissa Malfoy, née Black,” Draco began introducing his friend in an attempt to move the conversation along. “Mother, this is my friend Hermione Granger.”

Narcissa gave Hermione a smile and a nod of her head. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, dear.”

Hermione returned her smile and curtsied. “You as well, Lady Malfoy.”

“Well… let’s get to it.” Sirius turned to face the gargoyle and paused, realising at once that he didn’t know the password.

“Lemon drops,” Hermione stated knowingly.

The gargoyle sprung to life and began to move, allowing the group to enter into the headmaster’s office.

“I–I didn’t help you get out of Azkaban,” the Nott boy said quietly. He was hesitant to follow the rest of them into Dumbledore’s office.

“Nonsense,” Sirius said to him. “You’re Harry’s friend, you can come in as well if you’d like.” The boy sighed in relief. “You’re from the Nott Family, correct?”

“Yes sir. Theodore Nott.” He hesitated for a split second. “Theo is good.”

“After you, Theo.” Sirius gestured to the boy, bringing up the rear of their little group.

Sirius entered in last, spotting his former Head of House instantly. He threw her a grin and a wink. “Hello Minnie. Long time, no see.”

She fought a grin, her eyes twinkling. “Mr. Black, it’s a pleasure to see you again.” She paused, looking to Albus discreetly. “I do hope you don’t mind if I stay to listen to what Albus has to say.” She pulled her lips tight. It was the same look she had given Sirius and his friends when they had gotten into trouble countless times during their time at Hogwarts. 

She was annoyed at the headmaster.

A wide smile broke out on Sirius’ face, pleased that he wasn’t on the receiving end for once. “Not at all. The more the merrier.”

“Wonderful,” she said dryly. She took out her wand and began transfiguring seating for everyone who had entered in with Sirius.

“Now, dear boy,” Albus began to protest. “This is a private conversation. Surely it is no place for Mr. Potter’s friends.” He peered at Sirius from behind his desk. Hands steepled in front of his face.

“I disagree, Albus,” Sirius stated bluntly. 

He sat down in the chair next to Harry taking in his appearance. 

He was dressed not in his school uniform, but in second-hand clothing. 

Oversized, ratty-looking second-hand clothing. _Smart kid_. He wanted Sirius to see what he had to put up with at the Dursley’s. 

He focused back on the Headmaster. “They are Harry’s friends. It would be unwise to isolate him from his friends. _Detrimental_ even. If anything, he can ask them for clarification on whatever you wish to discuss today, Albus. I’m sure they’d be more than happy to answer any questions he may have.”

Two could play this game, and Sirius _was_ a Black after all. His family practically invented this stuff.

“Absolutely.” A handful of voices said behind Sirius.

“See?” He challenged Albus, jiggling his leg in anticipation. “This conversation isn’t really private. I certainly have nothing to hide. Harry is more than welcome to discuss what he has heard today with whomever he chooses to.”

“I’d like to have my friends here,” Harry informed the room quietly. Assertively. “They’ve taught me loads about the magical world already. Stuff that I’ve missed out on.”

“That’s settled then.” Sirius got comfy in his chair. “Where did you wish to start, Albus?” He grinned at his former headmaster. He couldn’t help himself.

Dumbledore sighed, seeing that he lost the first argument. “It is best if Harry stays with his aunt and uncle over the summer.”

Harry tensed.

“No.” Blunt. It was a condition he wouldn’t falter on. _Ever._ “James and Lily were adamant that he not stay with them. Petunia’s hatred for anything to do with magic saw to that.”

“They are the last of Harry’s relatives,” Dumbledore insisted, gesturing to Harry. “Family is important Mr. Black, you know this.” Sirius raised a brow at the old man in response. “He must stay with them. He is more than welcome to visit you over the holidays, but anything more than a few days with you would be dangerous for him.”

Sirius snorted. “I highly doubt that staying with me is dangerous. I am his godfather. James and Lily both agreed that he was to stay with me should anything happen to them. You ignoring that goes against their wishes.”

“He _must_ stay with his blood relatives. It is imperative that he does so. Beyond anything you would understand.” Dumbledore was adamant. 

“Enlighten me then,” Sirius said to him coolly. He truly did not understand the justification for doing such a thing to Harry.

Albus shook his head. “I don’t feel comfortable discussing this matter in front of a crowd, Mr. Black.”

The Malfoy’s and Notts was what he meant but didn’t need to say. 

Sirius frowned, he wondered if he was now in that group of untrustworthy individuals. He _was_ a Black after all. As much as he rebelled against his family when he was a child, he knew people thought twice about him because of his family name. 

His family had a reputation – a well-deserved one, in his opinion. He had been fighting against it his entire life – had even gotten himself blasted off of his Family Tapestry. 

His name had still gotten him locked up in Azkaban without a trial. He knew that without a doubt. It was something that Albus had played to his advantage.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Harry cleared his throat, focusing Sirius’ attention back to the present once more. 

“With all due respect Professor Dumbledore, sir,” he began quietly. “You are just the Headmaster for the school. You have no right to say who I am to live with. Sirius is my guardian, not you.” He paused, frowning to himself. “If my parents named him as my guardian, as my _godfather,_ then I think it’s best if we follow what they’ve said. What they wanted. I am certain you are aware of the importance of a godfather in the magical world?” It was a rhetorical question, but one that Harry needed to remind Albus of.

Sirius watched him closely as he began fidgeting with his hands. 

Harry was nervous, uncomfortable. “I-I refuse to go back to the Dursley’s, sir. They don’t treat me right.” He shook his head and looked down at his hands.

Harry looked over to Sirius with worry in his eyes. “I lived in a cupboard under the stairs until I got my Hogwarts letter,” he muttered quickly and quietly. He hadn’t wanted anyone else to hear him.

Sirius tensed. It was worse than he realised. The clothing made more sense now, as did his size. _Abuse_ . That’s what it was without a doubt in his mind. They locked him away in a cupboard with nothing but scraps for clothing like a _bloody_ house elf. 

The Dursley’s would pay for it, he’d make sure of it.

He swallowed, exhaling slowly. Trying to control his renowned temper. “Harry, I _promise,_ you will never have to see the Dursley’s again. You will _never_ have to go back there. Do you understand me?” His voice was shaking, emotions running rampant.

Harry nodded. He wouldn’t look at Sirius. Instead focusing on his hands in his lap. “I understand, sir.”

Sirius glowered at Albus. 

The old man had paled considerably. Shocked at what he had just heard. 

“I see you had no idea where Harry was staying when he was with the Dursley’s, Albus.” He swallowed, fighting hard to control his anger. “It goes to show how _inept_ you are at looking out for my godson. Like Harry has stated: you have no right to the guardianship of Harry. This _proves_ it.”

Albus gave a shaky nod of his head. “I concede the guardianship issues. We can work around it. Figure out something else to protect Mr. Potter.”

Sirius nodded in agreement. He needed to understand what had Dumbledore so worried, but this wasn’t the place to do it. It was a discussion for another day, away from eleven year olds.

“Was there anything else you wished to discuss?” Sirius asked him sharply. He was still angry. Livid.

“Are you fit to look after Mr. Potter?” Albus gestured with one hand to the cane laying across Sirius’ lap.

Sirius sighed. “I am. My muscles are weak, I’ll admit. But that’s normal when you’re locked up in an eight-by-five cell every single day with only a ratty, old blanket and a bucket to shit in.” He paused, trying to reign in his temper. He couldn’t mess up now. “My healer says I’m improving every single day. Getting stronger, both physically and mentally.” Another pause. “I’ve also gotten back in touch with Remus. When I do find a place to live other than Malfoy Manor, Remus will be living with Harry and me. And you know how responsible Remus was when we were at Hogwarts, Albus.”

He turned back to Harry, watching him closely. His godson was looking back at him, frowning, trying to put a face to the name. “Remus wanted to see you play today Harry, but he is a bit under the weather at the moment. He thought he’d be better by now, but his _illness_ was worse than he realised. It’s taken him longer to get better. To heal. Stress does that.”

Harry nodded absentmindedly. “Remus?” he asked.

Sirius nodded. “Your father and our friends called him Moony.”

Harry frowned some more. “I think I remember him. I’m not sure though.”

Sirius grinned. “Perhaps you’ll remember him when you see him later. We can spend Winter Break together. The three of us, if you want.” He sighed. “I will still be living at Malfoy Manor at that time, but with Draco as your friend, perhaps you can spend some time there as well.” He turned to look at Narcissa to make sure it was still alright with her.

“Of course,” she said kindly to him. “I was going to invite Harry to spend time with our family for Winter Break.”

“Really?” Both Draco and Harry questioned.

“Absolutely,” Narcissa insisted with a small grin. “Theo and Hermione are welcome as well.”

“Oh,” Hermione worried quietly. “I-I was going to be spending time with my parents this break actually.” She frowned to herself. “I haven’t seen them since September first. I miss them. I do hope that’s alright, Lady Malfoy.”

“Oh of course dear,” Narcissa waved off her concern. “Spending time with mum and dad is most important.”

“Was there anything you wanted to ask, Harry?” Minerva said from the back of the room. She was watching Harry closely, reading his body language.

Sirius turned his attention back to his godson. He was hesitant, unsure. “What is it, Harry?” He asked him quietly.

Harry just shook his head. He wasn’t comfortable enough to ask Sirius. He frowned. “After you leave Malfoy Manor, where are you going to live?”

Sirius shrugged. “I’m not sure yet. I technically do have a house to stay in, but it’s nowhere to raise a boy. I certainly don’t wish to live there.” He paused. “Was there anywhere you wanted to live?” He asked Harry quietly. “Anything you wanted in a home?”

Harry shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter where. But, I like the bed I have now. Can I have something like that at your home?”

_“ Our_ home, Harry,” Sirius corrected him. “But yes. I don’t see a problem with getting you a canopy bed. That’s what you were talking about right?” Harry nodded. “Anything else?”

“I like the bookcases in our common room too. The books.” Harry looked closely at Sirius. “Can I – _we_ have bookcases too? With lots of books?”

Sirius grinned. “You have bookcases in the Slytherin common room? The Gryffindor one doesn’t.” He chuckled. “Just sofas and chairs and pillows and the most massive fireplace I’ve ever seen.”

“You were a Gryffindor?” 

Sirius nodded. “It’s where I met your dad. We shared a dormitory.”

Harry frowned. “Potter’s are always in Gryffindor — that’s what our prefect Stacy Burke said on our first night here. Is it wrong that I was put in Slytherin?”

Sirius shook his head emphatically. “Not at all. There is nothing wrong with you being in Slytherin.” He paused. “I’m a Black, Harry. Black’s have always been sorted into Slytherin, yet I wasn’t.” He left out that he had begged the hat to put him somewhere other than Slytherin. That he didn’t want to be anything like his family. “The hat chose to put you there for a reason, Harry.”

Harry nodded in agreement. He hesitated again. “I wonder if the hat chose Slytherin for me because I can understand snakes.”

Gasps could be heard throughout the room. Dumbledore paled even further. Minerva clutched the clasp of her cloak, her eyes wide. Shocked.

Sirius employed every single lesson he had to endure as a child growing up as the Heir of the House of Black and kept the shock off of his face. He merely smiled at Harry. “That _may_ be a reason for your sorting.” He paused once more in an attempt to gather his thoughts. “Parseltongue is an ability that is usually only found in those with,” he paused for a moment, searching for the right words, “strong Slytherin ties. It isn’t a common trait though, so if I were you, I would keep that ability to myself. You don’t want someone to use it against you, Harry.”

Harry nodded in understanding.

Dumbledore cleared his throat. “That goes for everyone else in this room please.” He peered over his half-moon spectacles at the first year Slytherin students.

“When did you realise you could understand snakes Harry?” Sirius asked him, curious at what he would learn about his godson.

“Oh,” Harry laughed quietly to himself. “Just before my eleventh birthday. At my cousin Dudley’s birthday party actually. We all went to the zoo and I accidently made the glass disappear in the snake enclosure. My cousin pushed me out of the way you see. Anyway, he fell into the enclosure, the glass re-appeared somehow and he was trapped. The snake got out of the enclosure when the glass was gone. He slithered up to me and said _‘thanks’_ in a sort of hissy way.” He shrugged. “I said _‘you’re welcome’_ and then the snake just slithered away.” Harry looked to Sirius for guidance. “Was that wrong what I did?”

Sirius considered the question. It didn’t sound like Harry meant to harm his cousin. It sounded entirely accidental in his opinion. He hadn’t let the snake loose to attack people, it was merely a side-effect of the disappearing glass. He shook his head. “I don’t think so, Harry. Accidental magic is common before you go to Hogwarts. It’s usually brought on from strong emotions: anger, sadness, happiness, excitement. Did you mean for your cousin to get stuck in the snake enclosure? Did you mean to harm him?”

Harry shook his head vigorously. “No! Not at all! It just sort of happened, I swear.”

Sirius smiled at him. “Then no harm done. Nothing you did was wrong.”

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” Albus began. “But, I believe that’s all the time we have for today.”

Sirius nodded in agreement. “I’ll see you again at King’s Cross Station in just over a month’s time, Harry.” A pause. “We can catch up more during your Winter Break, how does that sound?”

Harry grinned. “I’d like that.”

~ | ~

The group said their goodbyes at the front entrance of the school. The first years went for lunch in the Great Hall while Sirius and Narcissa made their way through the courtyard and down the pathway to the front gate of the school grounds. They were both silent, taking in what they both had learned in the Headmaster’s office.

Narcissa exhaled deeply. “Did you wish to spend some time in Hogsmeade? I could go for a drink myself. I’m sure you could as well, Sirius.”

He nodded. “Yeah.” His mind was racing. The news that Harry was a parselmouth shook him to his core. 

That was Heir of Slytherin business. He knew Harry wasn’t the Heir of Salazar Slytherin. 

Harry was from a family that had a long tradition of being in Gryffindor House. He was a Potter for Merlin’s sake.

The pair stepped into the Three Broomsticks. The entire village was relatively empty – a positive side effect of it not being a Hogsmeade weekend for the school. The Three Broomsticks was the same as Sirius remembered – a few tables were occupied, but the pub was mostly empty and quiet.

Narcissa steered them over to a small table away from everyone else. Sirius held out her chair as she took a seat. He sat down across from her, his elbows supporting him on the table as he got comfortable. 

Madam Rosmerta made her way over to the newcomers with a warm smile on her face.

“Greetings Sirius, Lady Malfoy." She smiled warmly at the pair. “What can I get for you today?”

Narcissa smiled at the barmaid. “May I have a gillywater cocktail please? A double if you would be so kind.”

“Of course.” Rosmerta turned her attention to Sirius, a warm smile still on her face. “And how is my favourite customer?”

Sirius chuckled dryly. “I’m good Rosmerta. How've you been?”

“I’ve been good as well.” Her eyes were bright, looking like she wanted to say more but decided against it. She cleared her throat instead. “What can I get for you?”

Sirius hesitated. “Can I get a red currant rum?” He needed something strong.

Rosmerta gave a curt nod of her head. “Coming right up.” She spun around in her heels and quickly made her way back towards the bar.

Sirius and Narcissa settled into their chairs. Waiting to really speak about what they learned earlier until they got their drinks. 

Sirius was running through the numerous things he had learned from Dumbledore. From Harry. He sighed. It was a lot to take in. A lot to understand.

Rosmerta made her way over to the pair. “Your double gillywater, Lady Malfoy.” She set the drink down in front of Narcissa. “And for you Sirius, your red currant rum.” She set the glass down in front of him. She looked between the pair. “If either of you need anything, just wave me down.”

“Thank you,” Sirius muttered. He took a sip of his drink as Rosmerta walked away to serve other customers. “So…”

Narcissa nodded as she took a sip of her own drink. She waved her wand around the table to prevent anyone from listening in on their conversation. “Harry is an interesting boy.” She peered over her glass at Sirius.

Sirius nodded in agreement. “He’s a parselmouth.” He couldn’t downplay it like he had in front of Harry.

“It’s an interesting trait for him to have,” Narcissa replied slowly, lost in thought.

Sirius frowned. “What aren’t you saying?”

“Well, it’s just that parseltongue is a trait of the Heir of Slytherin. Something of which we know for a fact that Mr. Potter is _not."_ Narcissa stated confidently, stopping to take another sip of her drink. “It’s brought up memories for me, Sirius. Information that Lucius has told me about during his time with the Dark Lord.”

“Voldemort you mean?” Sirius pushed her. He hated that she continued to refer to the lunatic as the Dark Lord.

Narcissa twitched yet again at his use of the name. She frowned at him, annoyed. “Yes.” A pause. She was trying to work her way through a memory. “Lucius mentioned that he would occasionally be surrounded by snakes. Like they were attracted to him. Lucius mentioned that he would hiss at them — speak with, if you will.” She gestured vaguely to Sirius. “I remember Lucius saying that he almost cared more for his snakes than any of his followers. You know how Lucius is — he prefers the attention to be on himself. The fact it was directed towards some reptiles, really put a bad taste in his mouth.”

“He probably did care more about the snakes than he did his Death Eaters, Cissa,” Sirius said quietly. “The man was a psychopath.”

Narcissa nodded in agreement. “I know that. I saw how he used the pureblood families to gain support, yet he didn’t care about pure blood being spilled any more than dirty blood. To him it was all the same. He manipulated the traditional and scared families into doing his dirty work by promising them power.” She shook her head. “He used their – _our —_ lust for power to gain his own.” A pause. “But, that’s not why I brought up his ability to speak to snakes.” She looked closely at her cousin. “Do you have any idea how Harry survived that night?”

Sirius shook his head. “I have no idea.” He rubbed his face and took another sip of his rum. “Their cottage was practically blasted apart. The roof was blown open above Harry’s nursery. There was debris everywhere. I could barely make it up the stairs.” He swallowed at the memory. “Lily was covered in the debris. Harry wasn’t. It was like the explosion resonated from him.”

Narcissa nodded, humming. “A rebound from the killing curse.” At Sirius’ nod she continued. “His scar,” she prompted, “the shape of it. You have noticed it, I assume?”

Sirius hummed. “It’s the shape of the wand movement for the killing curse.”

Narcissa nodded once more. “So he _was_ hit with the killing curse, yet he is still very much alive.” Her brows were raised high on her forehead as she waiting for Sirius to comprehend what she hadn't said.

“What aren’t you saying?” He really didn't like playing these sorts of games. He just wanted her to tell him what she had figured out.

Narcissa shook her head, shrugging. “What else do you remember about that night? Focus not on what _was_ there, but on what wasn’t. Was anything missing? _Anyone?”_

Sirius ran through his memories of that awful night once more. 

The sight of James on the floor in front of the stairs – dead trying to protect his small family. 

The sight of Lily in front of the crib in Harry’s nursery. Half covered in debris. 

Harry standing in his crib wailing, reaching for his mum. 

Voldemort. _No._ Nothing.

Sirius hadn’t seen him; hadn’t seen his body there. He frowned. His mind racing, trying to make sense of it all. Trying to answer the unasked question. _If Harry had killed Lord Voldemort like everyone said he had, where in Merlin's name was the body?_

“There wasn’t a body,” he croaked out. His eyes meeting Narcissa’s. “Voldemort wasn’t there.”

“Where did he go?” Narcissa asked him quietly, tapping a long nail quietly on the wooden table between them. “He should’ve been dead, but he would’ve left a body behind if he was. So, if he isn’t truly dead, then where in the hell is he?”

Sirius felt like he was going to be sick. “He was a parselmouth. Harry is now a parselmouth. You think he is hiding in Harry?” He swallowed, trying to control his churning stomach. “You think he is possessing Harry?” His lip quivered.

“I don’t know about possessing him, no.” Narcissa had brought up her hands in a placating gesture. Non-verbally telling Sirius to remain calm. “But, I do still think he is out there somewhere. Hiding. Biding his time. Trying to figure out a way to come back.” She paused, thinking. “Lucius’ dark mark is still present. Faded, but still there.” She frowned. “I do know You-Know-Who was experimenting with dark magic, _old magic._ Everyone knows that. What if he found a way to survive the killing curse? What if he found a way to make himself immortal?”

Another long-forgotten memory flashed through Sirius’ mind. 

A letter from his brother. 

He hadn’t seen or heard from him in years, yet his baby brother had sent him a letter out of the blue a short time before he heard of his death. 

_Soul splitting._

That was what his brother had written. He believed that his master was attempting to become immortal. That he _had_ become immortal. 

_Regulus, what did you figure out?_

Sirius’ eyes found Narcissa’s once more. “Soul splitting,” he muttered. “Regulus wrote to me a short time before he was killed. He said he believed that Voldemort had actually become immortal. That he had found a way through the splitting of his soul.” He shook his head. “What if there is a piece of Voldemort inside Harry? What if there are pieces of him scattered about?”

Narcissa nodded slowly. “It would explain the lack of a body.” A pause. “And Harry’s ability to speak to snakes.”

Sirius knew he was right. His brother had figured it out before anyone else. It had gotten him killed. “Do you know how Regulus died?”

Narcissa shook her head. “I've no idea. Lucius just informed me that Regulus had just stopped showing up to meetings. That he had gotten scared and tried to flee. That my cousin was weak and was killed as a result. No one gets to rescind their service to the Dark Lord.”

Sirius nursed his rum. Narcissa, her gillywater. Both letting their thoughts wander after what they had figured out. After what they had learned.

“What do you think of the Granger girl?” Narcissa asked him with a slight grin. Her eyes were alight with amusement.

Sirius snorted. “There is no possible way she is from the Dagworth-Granger family.”

Narcissa nodded in agreement. “She _is_ just a Granger though, not a Dagworth-Granger. Perhaps that is why she looks so different from the Dagworth-Grangers we knew as children. But, I agree with you. I don’t believe she is from that family either.”

Sirius hummed. “She reminded me of someone.”

Narcissa frowned. “Who?”

He shrugged. “No idea. Just a feeling I got when I saw her outside Dumbledore’s office. A familiarity if you will.”

Narcissa hummed as she finished her drink. “We best get back to the Manor. Wouldn’t want Lucius to get up to anything.” She rolled her eyes as Sirius tried and failed to hide his smirk.

He knocked back the remainder of his drink and made his way to the bar to pay for the both of them before following Narcissa out of the pub.

He reached for Narcissa’s arm once they reached the outskirts of the village and the pair of them apparated with a soft _crack._


	9. Chapter 9

“Will you be visiting with the Malfoy’s over Winter Break, Theo?” Hermione asked her friend as the two of them got to work on their charms homework. 

They had found an empty table in the library to work at, waiting for their friends to join them after quidditch practise.

Theo shrugged. “Probably for a bit at least. My father and Draco’s father are close mates. I don’t really have a choice but to go.” 

Hermione frowned. “I always thought you and Draco were friends… you are, aren’t you?” 

Theo nodded. “Yep. But when we have to visit it’s all formal, not like here. There’s a big dinner. Our father’s talk with one another, and me and Draco are stuck there in itchy robes and gelled hair with the other kids.” He dipped his quill into his ink and began writing notes. “It’s not much fun to be honest with you. You’re lucky your parents kept you from all that rubbish. I envy you.”

“Harry’s staying there for the break,” Hermione informed him quietly as she too got to work. “With his godfather,” she added on worriedly. Harry was not used to the attention he received from everyone in the magical world, even now after living in it for a few months.

Theo shrugged. “He has to learn how things are eventually, Hermione. He can’t remain sheltered forever. No matter how much the headmaster wanted him to be.” He paused, frowning. “But, if it makes you feel any better, Draco and I can look out for him. Make sure he doesn’t mess up too badly. Sirius will be with him too. I’m sure Harry will be fine.”

“And to make sure his secret doesn’t get out,” Hermione informed him quietly. The fact that Harry could apparently speak to and understand snakes had been eating away at her for the last month. Ever since she learned about it in Dumbledore’s office. She didn’t know what it meant.

“Especially that,” Theo agreed. “The people my father associates with would  _ love  _ to learn that about the Boy-Who-Lived.”

“Why?” Hermione asked carefully. The conversation was beginning to take an uncomfortable turn and she didn’t know what to do or say. The warning from Sebastian Avery at the welcoming feast was running through her head.

Theo just gave her a tight smile, one that didn’t reach his eyes. “You know why, there’s no need to play dumb Hermione. It doesn’t suit you.” He looked down at his textbook and carried on with his homework on locking and unlocking charms that they had begun to learn about in class. “Do you think you’ve got a good understanding of these charms?” He asked, pointing to the textbook with the feathered end of his quill. He was giving her an escape from the topic of his father’s associates.

Hermione nodded, grateful at the segue. “I believe so. I’ve been practising already with the lock on the loo door in my dormitory.” 

“Huh.” Theo rubbed his chin in thought. “That’s actually a good idea.”

“There you two are,” Daphne hissed at them as she sat down next to Hermione. She was pulling out her books from her school bag when Pansy sat down at the table with them.

“Harry’s on his way,” she informed Hermione and Theo loudly. “Draco as well. I honestly don’t understand how he could sit out there all practise to watch them go over drills. It’s freezing and we were only out there for a few moments.” Pansy shivered as she got her homework out of her bag.

“Probably because he wants to try out for the team next year,” Theo muttered as he scratched down a few notes on his charms assignment.

“What position?” Hermione asked him, she couldn’t help her curiosity.

Theo shrugged. “Chaser, I think. There should be an opening next year. He could also be a reserve seeker if Harry was unable to play for whatever reason.”

Pansy snorted. “Puh-lease… Draco Malfoy isn’t going to be a reserve _anything._ It’s chaser or nothing.”

“Shhh!” Madam Pince hissed at the group of Slytherin first years. “This is a place to study, not to gossip about quidditch! If you want to chat, leave!”

Hermione nodded her head, terrified of the librarian. “Apologies Madam Pince,” she quietly responded, getting back to her work.

The librarian just glared at the curly-haired witch and stormed off without saying a word more.

Minutes later both Harry and Draco made their way over to the table. Taking the two remaining chairs.

“How was practise?” Hermione whispered to Harry as he pulled out his homework.

He nodded his head, hair wet from melting snow. “Good,” he whispered back. “Cold,” he grinned at her as he used the sleeve on his robe to wipe his face.

“Why’re we whispering?” Draco asked the table as he opened up his potions textbook to read ahead.

“Pince.”

Draco rolled his eyes at the mention of the librarian.

The group of friends worked their way through their homework for the rest of the afternoon. Madam Pince made her way by their table repeatedly, unable to find anything to shush the group of first year students.

Getting closer and closer to dinner saw the group begin to slow down. Hermione sighed as she ended her sentence and set down her quill. Her hand was beginning to cramp after writing so long with a quill.

She frowned as she looked at her writing instrument. It was such a strange thing to write with, to get used to. She looked over at Harry as he scribbled his last bit and set his own quill down. His writing was atrocious, a factor made more evident with the usage of their quills.

He sighed, frustrated. “I’m done.”

“Food,” Draco said to the group as he began packing up his belongings. “I’m completely famished. Let’s drop our stuff off in our dorms and grab a seat in the Great Hall for dinner.”

“That’s a great idea, Draco,” Pansy cooed as she too put her school supplies away.

Theo caught Hermione’s gaze and rolled his eyes in exasperation.

Hermione hid her grin behind her hand and stood up from her spot at the table. Daphne following suit.

“Alright gang, let’s get out of here.” Daphne looped an arm with Hermione and began the trek out of the library. Ignoring Madam Pince’s glare at the young Slytherin’s retreating backs.

~ | ~

“I was thinking of visiting Hagrid after class,” Harry quietly said to Hermione as they got ready for their last potions class before the break. “I haven’t visited in a while and I figure I should before the break. Did you want to come with me?”

Hermione nodded enthusiastically. “Of course Harry.” While she couldn’t think of a reason  _ not _ to see the groundskeeper, the fact that Hagrid was the one to introduce Harry to the magical world still did not sit well with her. She would always go with Harry when he visited with him, in case Hagrid or Dumbledore tried anything while Harry was there.

Prior coming to Hogwarts, Hermione would’ve vehemently argued against distrusting the headmaster. However, after the meeting between Dumbledore and Harry’s godfather, she couldn’t be sure.

The old wizard was clearly up to something. Something that involved her best friend.

Shaking her head to herself, she pulled out her potions notebook, quill and inkwell just as their potions professor stepped into the laboratory.

“There will be no potion-making today,” Professor Snape informed the class in his quiet drawl as he made his way to the front of the room. “Instead we will go over the key factors you’ve learned about potion-making since the start of the term. Any questions you may have about something you may or may not have missed - now is the time to ask.” He paused, peering down his hooked nose at the first year Slytherin and Gryffindor students. “This class is only half full of dunderheads, making it likely that it will be a shorter class than normal. One can only hope,” he sneered down at the students.

He turned to the blackboard and flicked his wand. “The first potion you learned about was the cure for boils. I assume every student here knows how to brew it properly.” He looked around the room, walking back towards the centre of the room. Dark eyes narrowing in annoyance.

“WEASLEY!” Professor Snape barked. “Since you appear to know everything, judging from your inability to follow along and take notes, what is the key characteristic of a successful creation of this potion?”

Hermione turned in her seat to watch the Gryffindor boy. He was staring at the potions professor with wide eyes and a gaping mouth, clueless about what had been discussed. His eyes darted to the blackboard, spotting the name of the potion.

“Erm… the key characteristic of the cure for boils potion is the… uh,” his eyes darted to a student sitting in front of him.  _ “Pink!  _ The potion emits pink smoke, sir!”

Snape stood in the centre of the room, raising an eyebrow at the Gryffindor. He pursed his lips. “You are correct Weasley, merely out of luck.” He spun around, making his way back to the front of the room. “Miss Patil, if you hiss answers to students they will never learn for themselves! Five points from Gryffindor!”

A few Gryffindor students grimaced at their loss of points, shaking their heads. The Patil girl was shrinking in her seat from unwanted attention.

“Any questions about this potion?” Professor Snape asked the class. His eyes darting around the room, looking at each and every first year student.

Hermione watched as Neville Longbottom slowly raised his hand. It was trembling.

“Longbottom.” Snape motioned to the terrified boy.

“I-I just wanted a clarification sir,” he cleared his throat. “We’re supposed to take our cauldron  _ off  _ of the fire before adding the porcupine quills, correct?” Neville’s voice was shaky, terrified at drawing attention to himself.

Professor Snape gave him a curt nod of his head. “That is correct Mr. Longbottom. Failure to do so will result in the melting of your cauldron, a putrid odour, and the eruption of boils on the skin should any of the potion make contact.” He paused, allowing the students to write notes on what he said. “It is vital that you remember that and pay attention to the instructions when you are brewing your potions.”

Hermione quickly scratched away in her notebook. Her notes practically unreadable in her haste.

Professor Snape peered at the first years, waiting for another hand to be raised. Another question to be asked. 

Silence.

“The next potion you learned to brew was the forgetfulness potion,” Snape continued his review session. “What are the three crucial ingredients needed to brew a successful potion?” He paused for a fraction of a second. “Potter?”

Harry sighed. “The three crucial ingredients are Lithe River Water, mistletoe berries, and valerian sprigs, Professor Snape, sir.”

The Head of Slytherin house afforded him a single nod of his head. “Correct!” He snapped. “Five points to Slytherin for actually paying attention and for knowing how to read.” He glared at Ron as he walked past the red-head’s desk.

The Gryffindor students hissed indignantly. 

Hermione bit her lip in amusement — the professor had never given points before to any of the questions Harry had answered throughout the term. She understood it was done today to drive the point home to the Gryffindors — and to annoy them merely for amusement of the professor. Her Head of House was either exceptionally bored, or in a wretched mood for one reason or another.

Snape ignored the discontent and plowed on with his review. “Any issues with this potion that needs to be addressed?”

The review class continued for the better part of an hour before the first years ran out of things to ask the potions professor.

“It is important that each of you continue to look back on your earlier potions and review them as much as you can,” Snape drilled on. “Any one of these potions, its characteristics or brewing instructions, can and will be asked on your exam at the end of the school year. As you carry on with your education, you will build upon what you’ve learned in your first year and apply it to your upper year classes. This is true for any one of your classes at Hogwarts.” He paused, peering at his students. “If you don’t have a strong foundation, it will be incredibly difficult for you to succeed. Class dismissed!”

Hermione packed up her belongings and followed Harry out of the room and into their common room, only a short distance away. There they dropped off their school bags, bundled up for their trek outside, and made their way to the front entrance of the castle heading in the direction of Hagrid’s hut.

“It’s freezing out!” Hermione complained through her scarf as the wind tousled her hair into her face. 

“Ugh.” She ran her fingers through her curls in an attempt to bring them to order. Careful to avoid getting her hand stuck.

Harry reached a hand to Hagrid’s door and banged his fist against the ancient wood.

“Hagrid!” Harry called out over the howling of the wind. “Hagrid! It’s Harry and Hermione! We wanted to stop by for a visit with you!”

The door was wrenched open by the half giant. “Harry! Hermione!” He stepped aside to let them into his home. “Come in will yeh… best to get out of the cold.”

Hermione hurried in after Harry, both taking up a seat on one of the massive chairs in the hut.

Hagrid poked a stick at the fire in the corner of his hut. Warming the place up from the cold.

Hermione peeled her off her scarf and mittens, Harry doing the same. “It’s nice to see you again, Hagrid!” She said cheerily to the groundskeeper as he began making the two a pot of tea.

“And yeh as well, Hermione,” his black eyes crinkled at her. His smile barely visible behind his thick beard. “Are the two of yeh all set for break? Yer train leaves tomorrow morning.” He peered at the two first years as he handed them each a mug of tea.

“Thank you Hagrid,” Harry chimed in. “And yes. All of my belongings are in my trunk already, so I’ll just have to bring it to the train.” He shrugged, unworried about forgetting anything.

“My belongings are also already packed,” Hermione admitted quietly as she took a sip of her tea. “I made sure I had everything last night before bed.”

Hagrid chuckled at her enthusiasm. “Of course yeh did.” He paused, frowning. “I hope the Slytherins are treating yeh both well. I worry about yeh. About both of yeh.”

Harry waved his concern off. “It’s been really good Hagrid. We’ve told you this before. Not all Slytherins are bad. Being in Slytherin House, for me at least, feels like I finally belong somewhere. It’s my home. My family. I’ve made my first real friends I’ve ever had there. They’re good people, Hagrid.” He frowned at the half giant. “I hardly think it’s fair to judge students because of the colour of their cloaks and ties. That’s something that Ron Weasley has done even though we shared a compartment on the train ride here. He hates me because of my house and I’ve done nothing to earn that other than not getting sorted into Gryffindor with him.”

“It’s true Hagrid,” Hermione insisted. “He’s quite cruel to both me and Harry. He’s nothing more than a jealous bully.” She frowned as she thought of the redhead. While he had stopped outwardly accusing them of using Dark Magic and of being Death Eater sympathizers at every chance he had, he was still hissing insults under his breath if either one of them was close by. He had learned to be quiet about his hate for the Slytherins. Something which made Hermione feel uneasy.

Hagrid frowned at the pair. “I’m sure it’s nothing more than a misunderstanding between yeh.” It was a halfhearted suggestion.

Harry shook his head adamantly. “No Hagrid. There is  _ no _ misunderstanding. Weasley has repeatedly insulted Hermione because of her intelligence. He’s repeatedly insulted me because he thinks I must be the new Dark Lord or whatever rubbish they’ve come up with in the Gryffindor common room.” He shook his head at the ridiculousness of it all. Hermione held his hand, trying to bring him comfort. “I’ve tried to ask him what his problem is, I’ve tried to be his friend. At the start of the year he told me to bugger off and to get away from him. That I was a snake and I should stick with the other snakes. He pulled his wand on me, Hagrid. He tried to hex me my first week here because I happen to be wearing green rather than red. I lost my first ever friend because of his bigotry. There is  _ nothing _ to misunderstand.”

“He wanted to claim Harry as his friend because he’s the  _ Boy-Who-Lived,  _ Hagrid,” Hermione explained to the man. “He’s upset that he cannot monopolize Harry from everyone else. That he cannot claim to be his one and only friend because they’re not in the same house. He views Harry as a commodity rather than a person.” 

She looked at Hagrid pointedly, trying to get him to understand. “ _ That’s  _ why he’s got it out for us.  _ That’s  _ why he hates us so much. Us being in Slytherin is just an excuse for him to act like a wretched bully.”

Hagrid looked between the two with sad eyes. “I’m sorry teh hear tha’. I’m sorry you’ve had to put up with tha’ from him.” He took a slurp of his tea. “Did yeh want me to speak teh him? He’s here a lot with Neville an’ Seamus.” 

Harry shook his head. “No Hagrid, it's alright. It’ll probably just make everything worse.”

Hermione nodded in agreement. “We can manage him right now. I don’t want that to change.” 

Harry, Hermione and Hagrid chatted for the rest of the morning about their classes. Hagrid was curious about what their favourite subject was. Before long the group headed back out into the cold to make their way to the Great Hall for lunch.

~ | ~

Sirius stood next to Narcissa as the pair of them waited just outside platform 9 & ¾ for the Hogwarts Express to arrive. They had arrived somewhat early and were each clutching a takeaway cup of tea from the nearby coffee shop.

Narcissa hummed in content. “This is really quite good, this tea.” She turned her head to acknowledge her cousin. “Thank you for recommending the place Sirius.”

He chuckled as he took a sip of his drink. “It’s no problem. Figured you likely hadn’t tried something muggle.” He looked at his watch, the train would be arriving any moment now.

He looked around at the waiting parents, easily spotting a few families he recognised. He nodded at Molly Weasley when she noticed him, a tiny little redhead girl standing next to her. She returned his greeting with a small smile, but kept to herself as she awaited her many children.

Sirius frowned to himself trying to remember the name of the youngest Weasley child. He shared a look with Narcissa, questioning her subtly.

She stepped closer to Sirius and murmured in his ear. “Ginevra Weasley is her name. Youngest of seven and the first girl born into the family in centuries. She’ll begin Hogwarts next year.”

Sirius nodded at the information. The little girl would be a powerful witch one day, if the tales and he grew up hearing were anything to go by.

Augusta Longbottom stood regally off to the side of the group before making her way over to Sirius.

“Sirius,” she greeted him quietly. “I’m deeply sorry to hear about your lack of a trial and the resulting tribulations that you’ve experienced because of the incompetent dunderheads at the Ministry.” She frowned. “Frank and Alice always spoke highly of you.”

Sirius fought a grin, he loved the bluntness of the woman. “Thank you for your condolences Lady Longbottom. I too am sorry to hear about your son and daughter-in-law. They were spectacular Aurors. It’s horrible what’s happened to them.”

“Thank you. I’ll be sure to let them know next time Neville and I visit them.” She gave him a tight smile. “Do you have plans after you regain your health? I hear the Black seat in the Wizengamot is waiting for it’s proper representative.” Augusta narrowed her eyes at Narcissa before focusing her attention once again on Sirius.

Sirius huffed amusedly, rubbing his chin. “Currently I just wish to look after my godson. Beyond that I haven’t thought of anything.” He paused, frowning. “I’m not sure I could claim the seat. I  _ was _ blasted off of the family tapestry after all.”

She waved off his concern. “Nonsense. You  _ are _ the last of the Black’s, it is yours for the taking.” Her lips quirked into a subtle grin. “If there’s anything you or young Harry need, please do not hesitate to ask.”

“I will. Thank you.”

He looked around the group as more and more parents arrived to greet their children. He could spot a muggle couple, well-dressed, standing off to the side. 

Having made his mind up, he made his way over to the couple and introduced himself. “Hello,” he threw the pair a grin. “I’m Sirius Black. I’m waiting for my godson Harry Potter. Are you waiting for someone as well to come off the Express?” He grimaced at his lack of subtlety, years out of practise.

The woman returned his grin and held out her hand for him to shake. “Yes we are. Our daughter mentioned a boy named Harry Potter as one of her close friends. She mentioned you as well.” She turned to her husband, introducing him. “This is my husband Artie. My name is Helen. Our daughter is Hermione,” she told him quietly. “We’re dentists,” she whispered to him quietly.

“Of course,” he smiled at the couple, his mind whirring at Helen Granger’s response. At what he had just learned about the mystery girl. “That’s a difficult career to get into, isn’t it?”

Artie Granger chuckled dryly. “It’s a lot of schooling, I will admit. But well worth it. We love it.”

Sirius grinned. “It’s a pleasure meeting the family of my godson’s best friend. Perhaps in the future we can meet for coffee or tea.” He left the offer open, unsure if the Granger’s would want to spend time with him.

“Absolutely!” Helen exclaimed. “Perhaps at the finish of the school year? We are wanting to spend as much time with our daughter as possible. We haven’t seen her for months, and she is our only child.”

Sirius nodded in understanding. ”Absolutely. It’s important to not take for granted the time we have.” 

He said his goodbyes, before making his way back over to Narcissa.

“Do you know them from somewhere? I don’t recognize them,” she murmured to him once he came to a stop right next to her. She was careful she wasn’t overheard.

“The Granger girl’s parents,” Sirius informed her quietly. “Dentists. Tooth healers, if you will.”

“Muggles?” Narcissa’s left eyebrow quirked up. “That is  _ very _ interesting indeed.” She hummed to herself. “Best to keep that fact to ourselves, no? Wouldn’t want the wrong wizard to find out.” She subtly motioned to Lord Nott standing a short distance away.

Sirius hummed in agreement.

The first trolley was pushed through the barrier and their conversation ceased. 

Parents began warmly greeting their kids. Sirius was watching for the messy hair of his godson, growing impatient as other parents left with the kids in tow.

Soon a Greengrass girl made her way through the barrier and hugged her mother in greeting. Behind her was someone who looked to Sirius as belonging to the Parkinson Family. 

Theo Nott was next as he pushed his trolley closer to his father waiting for him. The pair did not even acknowledge one another before they left King’s Cross Station.

Narcissa sighed. “I worry about him.”

“Theo?” Sirius asked as he watched Draco make his way through the barrier.

Narcissa nodded in response before greeting her son with a bone-crushing hug and a kiss to each cheek.

Next was Harry and Hermione sharing a trolley. Hermione grinned at her parents as Harry stopped the trolley in between them and Sirius. He frowned, unsure what to do.

“I got it,” Sirius muttered. Whipping out his wand and shrinking Harry’s trunk quickly as to not draw too much attention to themselves. He tucked Harry’s trunk in his pocket before focusing his attention on the children.

“Hermione,” he said in greeting. “The trolley is yours for the taking.”

She grinned up at him. “Thank you Mr. Black!” She called out before hurrying over to her mum and dad.

Sirius turned to Harry who was watching him closely. “Hello again Harry.” He grinned at him.

“Hi Sirius,” Harry returned his grin with a shaky one of his own. 

He was nervous, Sirius realised. Unsure.

“Are you ready to spend some time with the Malfoys?” Sirius asked him quietly. “We have our own wing, so if you’d like, we are more than allowed to keep to ourselves if that is what you want.”

Harry looked up at Sirius, his bright green eyes had a look of confusion.

“I mean Lord Malfoy in particular. I am well aware you and Draco are good friends.”

Harry nodded in understanding. “I’m sure it’ll be alright,” he told Sirius quietly as the two of them made their way closer to Narcissa and Draco.

His statement wasn’t as confident as Sirius hoped. It was something the two of them would have to work on during the break. 

He shared a warm smile with Narcissa as the small group made their way out of King’s Cross Station and towards the nearby apparition point.

He was exactly where he was supposed to be. With Harry by his side after being denied for so many years.

Finally he was able to carry out his promise to James and Lily. Finally he was being allowed to be the godfather they had wanted him to be.

  
  
  
  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so incredibly much for continuing to read this little story. It means a lot ❤️❤️
> 
> Please be safe. Always. ❤️❤️

Harry awoke with a start to the sound of someone knocking on his bedroom door. He shot up in his bed and turned to the bedside table reaching for his glasses as the door opened and Sirius peered in.

“Good morning Harry.” He grinned at him. “Did you sleep alright?”

Harry, still groggy, pushed his glasses on his face and took in the bright sunlight seeping into his room. Dread settled in his stomach. 

_He had slept in._

“I-I’m sorry,” Harry stuttered, trying desperately to untangle himself from his blankets. “I didn’t mean to sleep in, I swear.” He was in so much trouble. Less than a day at the Manor and he had already messed up.

Sirius stepped into the room, softly closing the door behind him.

“Harry calm down.” He threw him a grin. “You aren’t in trouble. I promise. I’m sure Draco is still in bed too.”

“B-But this isn’t my home… I’m a guest,” Harry insisted, finally untangling his legs from his bedding. “I have to earn my keep. Not be a burden.” He stepped towards his trunk to search for something to wear. He was terrified he’d be banished back to his aunt and uncle. He couldn’t — _wouldn’t_ — let that happen.

“Harry stop,” Sirius insisted. “Please Harry, stop.”

Sirius stepped further into the room. “You don’t have to earn anything. You don’t have to do anything when you’re here. You are not a burden. At all.” He crouched down next to Harry’s trunk and peered up at him. His expression serious.

Harry looked at Sirius with trepidation. He didn’t know what to do.

“Harry,” Sirius said quietly. “I need you to listen to me very carefully. Can you do that for me?”

Harry nodded jerkily. His throat dry, as he wrung his ratty old t-shirt. A nervous habit he had thought he’d already grown out of.

“I need you to understand that the way your aunt and uncle treated you, when you lived with them, was wrong.” Sirius was looking at Harry with a strange expression on his face, Harry couldn’t identify what it was. “Very wrong.” He tugged Harry’s hands away from his t-shirt and held them gently in his own. “You said so yourself in the Headmaster’s office. You said that they didn’t treat you right.”

Harry nodded cautiously. He _had_ said that. He had practically begged Sirius to not allow him to be placed back in the care of his aunt and uncle.

“You need to understand that as a boy, as an eleven year old boy, it is not your responsibility to look after the family,” Sirius spoke quietly. “It is not your responsibility to cook for the entire family, to clean up after the entire family, or to do all the chores for the family, alright?”

Harry nodded, too afraid to speak.

“Do you understand what I am saying?”

Harry swallowed. “I understand, sir.”

Sirius scoffed. “Please don’t call me sir, Harry. It makes me feel old. You can call me Sirius, or Padfoot if you wish. There is no need for formalities.”

“Okay… Sirius.”

Sirius grinned once more. “Secondly, since it is _your_ break from Hogwarts, I give you permission to sleep in as much as you want to. If we need to be up early - for whatever reason, I _promise_ I will let you know the night before, alright?”

“Alright.”

Sirius nodded to Harry. “Now, this brings us to the reason why I knocked on your door in the first place. How would you like to come with me to get you some new clothes? The ones you have appear to be nothing more than rags and that’s not how a Potter should dress. It’s not how _anyone_ should dress, unless they have no other choice.”

Harry scratched at his old pajamas. “I’d like that. These are Dudley’s old clothes. They don’t fit him anymore.”

Harry watched Sirius closely, ready to bolt at a moment's notice. He could tell he was angry but was trying desperately to hide it.

Sirius exhaled slowly and plastered a grin on his face. “So how about you get dressed in something that’s yours. Perhaps your Hogwarts trousers and shirt, and after breakfast we can head to Diagon Alley.” He uncurled himself and stood up. “I will meet you in our kitchen. I hope you like eggs and toast. That’s pretty much all I can make well. I don’t want to bother the house elves if I don’t have to. They have enough responsibility.”

Harry watched as Sirius turned to leave his bedroom.

“I’ll see you in the kitchen in a few. I’ll put the eggs on right now, so try not to take too long.” Sirius stepped out of the room, leaving Harry to get dressed for the day.

~ | ~

Harry made his way through the separate, isolated wing of the Manor walking towards the kitchen. He felt strange in this place, unbelonging. Draco’s home was massive — beyond anything he could have imagined. Sirius had informed him, when they arrived the evening prior, that he had a separate wing from the rest of the family and spent most of his time away from them — with the exception of Narcissa.

Finally reaching the kitchen, Harry made his way to the small table tucked in the corner of the room.

“Did you need me to help you with anything?” Harry asked as he watched Sirius hover over the fry pan, spatula in hand.

“Nope!” Sirius cheerfully replied. “Just make yourself comfortable, Harry. This’ll be ready in a moment.”

The toaster popped, making Harry jerk in surprise. He frowned at the contraption. It looked like an old fashioned muggle toaster, but without the electrical cord and plug.

“How?” Harry trailed off. He didn’t know how to voice what he was thinking.

“How do the Malfoy’s have a toaster?” Sirius grinned at him as he placed two slices of toast on each of their plates. “This isn’t the muggle contraption you’re thinking of, Harry. Magical folk have toasters too. Think of all the toast at Hogwarts, and all without electricity. Not sure when it was embraced by the magical world, mind you. My parents had a toaster at my childhood home, so it must’ve been for some time.” He scooped some eggs on each of their plates before making his way over to Harry. “They are a little different, too. The magical ones don’t burn your toast if you leave it in there too long like the muggle ones do, something I learned the hard way at your mum’s place in our seventh year.”

“Were you and my mum friends in school too?” Harry asked him as he spread some strawberry jam on his toast. “The professors keep saying you and my dad were friends, but they don’t really talk about you and mum.”

Sirius barked in laughter. “The professors huh? Let me guess… McGonagall?” He poured both himself and Harry a glass of pumpkin juice.

Harry nodded. “Snape mentioned it too. Said you and dad were close. That it was why you were named my guardian if anything were to happen to them.” He took a sip of juice.

Sirius gave Harry a small smile. “I was definitely closer with your father, James. At least for the first few years at Hogwarts. It wasn’t until,” he grimaced, “sixth year before your mother and I really spoke to each other. More than a few words at least. We hung around with different people before then.” He took a bite of his eggs. Chewing. “But, yeah we were definitely friends after that. From sixth year onwards. The best of friends.”

Harry nodded as he went to work on his breakfast. He loved learning about his parents. “Who was she friends with before sixth year?”

Sirius choked on his juice. “What’s that?” He asked, coughing.

“You said before your sixth year you two hung around with different people.” Harry prompted him. “Who did she hang out with before she started hanging out with you and dad?” He frowned, curious. “Why did she not hang around with her other friends starting sixth year?” He couldn’t imagine losing the friends he had now when he reached sixth year at Hogwarts.

Sirius opened and closed his mouth. No sound coming out. “She was popular. She had a lot of friends,” he began to explain. “She had a falling out with her best friend at the end of our fifth year. Her best friend was someone your father and I didn’t get along with.” He frowned to himself, a memory of a time long passed running through his head. “It was why we never really spoke much to each other until sixth year,” he finished explaining, barely audible.

Harry chewed his eggs slowly. He could tell Sirius was uncomfortable with this topic of discussion. But he was curious. He wanted to know all he could about his mum. And his dad. He swallowed his eggs before grabbing his juice to wash them down. “Who was her best friend?” He asked taking a sip.

“Snape.”

Harry choked on his juice. “What?” He croaked out, coughing. Trying to clear his throat. He must’ve heard Sirius incorrectly.

“Snape, Harry,” Sirius said once more, a wry smirk on his face. “Her best friend up until the end of fifth year was your potions professor and Head of Slytherin House, one Severus Snape.”

Harry just looked at Sirius. Shocked. Unable to comprehend. “How?” He frowned. “What happened?” He asked his godfather quietly. Breakfast forgotten.

Sirius sighed, looking down at his plate. He stirred his eggs around. “He called Lily a foul name. She was sticking up for him. James and I had decided that it was a good idea to prank him; to bully him. Your mother came over to try to get us to stop what we were doing, to leave Severus alone. And, in turn he called her a horrible name. The worst, really.” He grimaced at the memory. “I’m not proud of what we did. At all. We were stupid, too smart for our own good and we took it out on Snape for the most part.”

Harry swallowed tightly. Professor Snape’s behaviour towards him beginning to make sense. He gave Sirius a nod of his head in understanding. He showed remorse for his actions, Harry could tell.

“What did he call her?” His stomach churning threateningly. His jaw set. He had a pretty good idea what it was. The same word Draco had used to describe his mother his first night at Hogwarts.

Sirius shook his head. “It’s a derogatory term for someone who is muggleborn. I don’t want to say it.”

_“Mudblood?”_ Harry spit the word out. Not liking the taste of it in his mouth. The way it curled around his tongue.

Sirius stared at him with wide eyes. “Who did you hear that from, Harry? Where did you learn that term?”

Harry now shook his head. Not wanting to explain. He was angry that his Head of House said that to his mother. About his mother. The concern he showed Hermione when he believed her to be a muggleborn witch was now falling flat in Harry’s eyes. 

It was stale. Meaningless. No wonder he was so pleased when he learned otherwise.

“Harry?” Sirius drew his attention back to the present. “Who did you learn that term from?”

Harry shook his head once more. “It doesn’t matter. They apologised for using it. I didn’t know what it meant at the time, but Theo informed me.”

“Who Harry?” Sirius insisted.

Harry took a bite of his toast and chewed for a bit. “Draco said it my first night at Hogwarts. He wanted to know who I lived with before finding out I was a wizard.” He shrugged. “He apologised. Hasn’t called her that since. He’s actually has a lot of questions about muggles.” He frowned. “I don’t think he really knew better when he said it. Now he does.”

Sirius nodded slowly. “You could be right. He could be picking up inappropriate terms from his family. His father.”

“Because his father’s a Death Eater — _was_ a Death Eater, you mean.” Harry took a careful sip of his juice. “One of the Slytherin prefects, Sebastian Avery, said to be careful with the boys in my dormitory. Said that their father’s all supported the Dark Lord — Voldemort — back in the day. Sebastian said it was important that I knew about their families, but that they may not actually agree with their family’s beliefs. They may not know any better right now. We _are_ first years after all,” he tried to explain to his godfather.

Sirius nodded. “He has a point. I know I was judged because of my family. Because of my last name.” He sighed before taking a sip of his pumpkin juice. “Who are you sharing a dormitory with?”

“Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and Zabini.”

Sirius whistled before rubbing his face. “Zabini’s probably safe from that.” He frowned. “What’s the boy’s name?”

“Blaise. Blaise Zabini,” Harry supplied, munching on his eggs. “He doesn’t really talk to me much though, keeps to himself mostly. I don’t think he really hangs out with anyone regularly.” He frowned, hesitating. “He just kind of floats around between different groups. I saw him studying with a couple of Ravenclaws a few weeks ago. The week before that he hung out with me, Hermione, Draco, and Theo.”

Sirius nodded once more. “He’s building up his connections.” He smirked at Harry. “It’s something most of the older pureblood families do. If you watch the different people in your common room, you can see them doing the same sort of thing with students inside and outside of Slytherin. Those types of connections stay with the witch or wizard well into adulthood most of the time.” He looked to Harry as he returned to his breakfast. “That’s probably something I am going to need to teach you about.”

Harry swallowed his eggs. “You think people will try to make a connection with me? To use me like I’m some sort of commodity?”

Sirius hesitated. “They could.”

“Because I’m the _Boy-Who-Lived_ you mean.” Harry frowned. Hermione had mentioned it earlier when they were speaking to Hagrid about Weasley.

Sirius nodded slowly. “Not all connections are like that though. Sometimes — a lot of the time — you will make really close friends. Lifelong friends, if you haven’t already.” He paused, taking a bite of his toast. “It’s not always political, Harry. You have to remember that.”

Harry hummed to himself. “Hermione is like that,” he told his godfather. “She’s my best friend.”

Sirius smiled. “She’s an interesting girl, that Hermione.”

Harry nodded in agreement as he finished his toast. “We decided to be friends on our first day at Hogwarts. She was nervous, like me, about being sorted into Slytherin.”

Sirius nodded, finishing up his juice. “Because she’s muggleborn, you mean?”

“What? _No_.” Harry insisted. “She’s from the Dagworth-Granger family. A reclusive branch.”

Sirius smirked. “The Dagworth-Granger Family is known to have reddish-blonde hair, Harry. _Straight_ , reddish-blonde hair. She is a curly-haired, brunette. She’s no Dagworth-Granger.”

Harry swallowed, nervous. “That may be true, but she isn’t muggleborn. Not that there's anything wrong with being muggleborn — there isn’t. But I can assure you, she has magic in her family.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “How can you be so sure, Harry? I met her mum and dad at King’s Cross yesterday. They are dentists.” He shook his head. “Nothing says muggleborn louder than having dentists for parents.”

“She’s adopted!” Harry blurted out without thinking. Sirius was watching him, shocked. “Those parents that you met yesterday adopted her when she was only a few months old. They aren’t her birth parents. She doesn’t know who her real mum and dad are. She didn’t even know she was adopted until the sorting hat told her!”

Sirius held up his hands in mollification. “Alright,” he said, trying to calm Harry down. “I didn’t realize that.” He frowned. “Her supposedly being a Dagworth-Granger was to protect her from any possible retaliation because of her blood status, wasn’t it?”

Harry nodded. Frustrated at himself for spilling Hermione’s secret.

“Do you know what the sorting hat told her?” Sirius asked him quietly. “Has she told you?”

Harry nodded. “She just said the sorting had told her that her parents are magical, and they hid her for a reason. That they hid her to protect her. The hat couldn’t figure out who her biological parents were. She had her memory wiped when she was just a few months old.”

Sirius nodded. “How old is she? When is her birthday, I mean?”

“September nineteenth,” Harry informed him. “Professor McGonagall visited her on her eleventh birthday to tell her she was a witch. Almost a year before she actually started at Hogwarts.”

Sirius hummed in thought. Harry frowned.

“What?” He asked. “Do you have an idea about who her parents are? Do you know?” He wanted to find out who her family was. He wanted to help his best friend.

Sirius shook his head at the questions. “It was the late seventies, Harry. I’ve no idea who her mother and father are. It could be anyone.” He frowned. “When I first met her I thought she looked familiar. Just a bit.”

Harry slapped his hand down on the table. “Her appearance has been changed too! I forgot about that. The hat said there’s a long-term glamour on her.”

Sirius pursed his lips. “Not a strong one though. It’d be too obvious. Something subtle to hide her in plain sight.” He paused once more. “She’s probably a pureblood, or one of her parents is a pureblood. That’s the only reason to place that sort of glamour on her.”

Harry frowned in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Sirius sighed, rubbing his face. “You’ll start to notice that pureblood families tend to have certain physical characteristics that allow others to identify them. Potter’s for example have unruly black hair like yours, _and_ awful eyesight actually. The Black family members tend to have black hair, and for the most part, grey eyes like me. Narcissa is the exception to the rule — she’s got the eye colour right, but she is one of the only blondes to be born into our family. The Malfoy’s have light blond hair — almost white, and silver eyes. Weasley’s — red hair and freckles. Same with the Prewetts actually, just a different shade of red from the Weasley’s.” He smiled at Harry. “Hermione’s magical parents must have been recognizable. _Distinct._ They adjusted her appearance before giving her up for adoption, to protect her. Maybe from her family.” He shrugged. “Maybe the pureblood family that she is descended from isn’t one of the good ones.”

“Which one of the pureblood families would someone hide a child from in order to protect them, way back in the seventies?”

Harry watched as Sirius paled slightly at the question before shaking his head as if to clear his thoughts.

“Plenty,” he said quietly, clearing his throat. “There are a number of families that she could’ve been protected from.” He shook his head once more. “Are you finished breakfast?” Sirius asked Harry, changing the topic. “Let’s go get you some new clothes.”

~ | ~

“What do I need those fancier robes for?” Harry asked as he and Sirius left Twilfitt and Tatting’s.

He turned to look at Sirius, catching his slight grimace.

“Because we are currently staying at Malfoy Manor,” he explained quietly as they made their way towards a Wizarding optometry shop nestled along a quiet part of Diagon Alley. “The Malfoy’s like to have _get-togethers_ during this time of the year. It’s a way to keep in touch with friends — or connections, if you will. So they know what’s going on in the Wizarding world.”

“And I’ll have to be there?” Harry asked nervously. “Because I’m the Boy-Who-Lived?”

Sirius nodded, looking ashamed of himself. “It’s not something I’m entirely comfortable participating in, but it would be exceptionally insulting if we were to not take part, considering we are living there right now.” He paused, reaching an arm out to open the shop door and motioning for Harry to enter before him. “I don’t want my distaste for that type of lifestyle to reflect poorly on you.”

They spent a few minutes in the shop waiting for the owner to finish up with another customer. As the older witch stepped out of the shop, the owner turned his attention to both Harry and Sirius.

“Your glasses are finished, Mr. Potter,” the wizard said with a grin. “Are you sure you only want one pair, we do have a sale on.”

Harry shook his head. “No thank you, sir. One pair is enough for me.”

The shopkeeper pulled Harry’s glasses out of a drawer at the cash register. “If you could put these on and I can see if they need some adjustments.” He handed Harry his new glasses with a smile.

Pulling off his old glasses, Harry slid the new ones on with a grin. He could see.

After a few minor adjustments made by the shopkeeper, Harry and Sirius stepped out of the shop after paying and made their way towards the Leaky Cauldron for a late lunch. 

“Now, the gathering that the Malfoy’s will be having will take place on the 24th,” Sirius informed Harry as he munched on his beef stew. The two were sitting in a secluded spot of the pub. “I have a pretty good idea what families will be there, so I can give you a crash course. I don’t think you’ll get too caught out with it all. Draco and Theo will be there, as well as a few other people around your age.” He cleared his throat and took a sip of his pumpkin juice. “If it’s anything like the Winter parties I had to go to as a kid, you’ll be mostly ignored while the parents drink and discuss Wizarding politics. Dreadfully boring stuff, I tell you.”

Harry laughed as he took a bite of stew.

“That being said,” Sirius looked at Harry pointedly, making sure he was paying close attention. “The kids you’ll be around will be watching you, trying to get a read on you to inform their parents about anything they can in regards to you.” He pointed his spoon at Harry. “Don’t mention Hermione to anyone. At all.” A pause. “Do you understand?” 

Harry swallowed, nervous. “I understand.” He nodded his head before he frowned in thought. “Draco knows about Hermione already though. He said he wouldn’t say a thing to anyone. Not even to his parents.”

Sirius smirked at Harry. “Narcissa already knows about Hermione. She knows her Wizarding families extremely well — she’s had to as a Black _and_ as the wife of Lucius Malfoy.”

Harry gulped as he stared blankly at his godfather. “How?” He frowned, trying to grasp what Sirius was getting at.

Sirius shrugged as he took another sip of his pumpkin juice. “Politics Harry. It’s just politics. It’s what she’s been groomed for since she was a child.” He threw Harry a grin. “Not much can get by her. That, and she was close with the Dagworth-Granger family when she was younger.”

Harry frowned once more. It made sense. The longer he spent at Hogwarts the more he realised just how close everyone was. It was a small community, the Wizarding world. Of course Draco’s mother would realise something wasn’t quite right when she learned about Hermione.

“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Harry,” Sirius reassured him quietly. “Narcissa won’t say anything to anyone else, not even to her husband. If anything she wants to learn who Hermione is.”

Harry gave him a shaky nod of his head. He was still worried about his friend.

“Now, about that crash course,” Sirius said as he pushed away his now empty bowl of stew. He signaled to Tom that he and Harry wanted a top up on their butterbeer. “Most of the families that will be at the Malfoy shindig will be the ones you’re already familiar with in Slytherin House. Namely, the Notts, Avery’s, Goyle’s, Crabbe’s, Greengrass, Parkinson’s… all of them. They will be there.” 

Harry nodded as Tom came over with their refills.

“Could we get a pitcher of water too?” Sirius asked him kindly.

“Coming right up.” Tom shuffled away from the table to grab their pitcher.

“There are certain hierarchies in the Wizarding World,” Sirius began explaining to Harry. “Have you noticed them in your time at Hogwarts, Harry?”

Harry nodded slowly. “Um… blood status is one. Families are another.” He frowned. “Are families higher standing because of their blood status?”

Sirius hummed, hesitating slightly as he thought about what he wanted to say. “Yes and no. Both the Weasley family and the Malfoy family are pureblood, however the Malfoy’s are generally viewed as having an exceptionally higher standing than the Weasleys.”

“Why?”

“A number of reasons,” Sirius began quietly. “Wealth is a key reason. Another is influence, which is also tied in with wealth.” He hesitated for a moment. “You mentioned earlier today that you shared a carriage with Ron Weasley on the Express on your way to Hogwarts.”

Harry nodded, wondering just where Sirius was going with that fact.

“I take it he latched onto you pretty tightly when he realised just who you were?”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m the Boy-Who-Lived.” Harry rolled his eyes. “As soon as I was sorted into Slytherin, he’s had it out for me.” A beat. “Hermione too.”

“That ties into the influence that I mentioned.” Sirius sighed. “I am not against the Weasley family. At all. I want to make that fact clear.” He looked at Harry pointedly, making certain he was listening closely. “I do however realise that the Weasley family is loyal to Dumbledore, and will always remain loyal to Dumbledore. They refuse to see the pain that he has caused. They don’t see how much he has manipulated everyone.”

“You don’t like Dumbledore either?”

Sirius shook his head. “It’s not a factor of whether I like him or not, it’s whether I trust him. And that answer is: no. I trust him about the same amount as I trust Voldemort, Harry. Which is to say, I don’t trust him at all.”

“What does Weasley have to do with this?” Harry asked him after a moment. “Ron Weasley, I mean.”

Sirius gave him a wry grin. “Well, just think how much influence Weasley would’ve had if you were sorted into Gryffindor with him. Just think of how much influence Dumbledore would have gained if you were sorted into Gryffindor, Harry.” He took a sip of his butterbeer. “The Boy-Who-Lived sorted into the rival house of Slytherin — where all the dark witches and wizards are from.” He shook his head. “You being outside of Dumbledore’s control in Gryffindor House puts a damper on his plans.”

“What sorts of plans?”

Sirius shook his head once again. “That I don’t know. Not really.” He locked eyes with Harry. A pained expression on his face. “It’s something we will have to wait and see for now.”

  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

Sirius sat down on the settee next to Harry in the tapestry room in the upper west wing of Malfoy Manor. His mind whirring with how exactly he wanted to teach his godson this pureblood nonsense.

He sighed as he turned his head slightly to look at Harry who was already watching him with curiosity. “How much about pureblood families do you know already?” He asked him. “I assume the first few months at Hogwarts has allowed you to pick up some things from your dormmates and housemates.” 

Harry nodded slowly. “A bit, yeah.” He frowned. “Draco gave me a bit of a crash course. Theo as well.”

“And what did they tell you?” He was curious about what he could’ve learned from the young boys. He hoped it wasn’t anything too extreme.

“Um… Draco just told me about a few of the families there at Hogwarts,” Harry began. “He mentioned the Longbottom, Weasley, Abbott, McLaggen, and Burke families. He gave me a bit of background information. Both him and Theo did.”

Sirius felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. “What all did they tell you about those families? Do you remember?”

Harry blew out a long breath. “Yeah.” He nodded. “They said the Longbottoms are an old wizarding family that is well-respected in the Wizarding world. They’re pureblood, and known for their herbology skills. Draco said that Neville Longbottom - a Gryffindor in our year - is a bit daft. Kinda like Crabbe and Goyle. But, his grandmother is sharp.” He frowned. “He said the Weasley’s had more children than money. But, that the Abbott’s were an alright family, even if they were all Hufflepuffs. The McLaggen’s are arrogant and pompous. The Burke’s own a shop down in Knockturn Alley. Theo said they’re best to steer clear from for now, even if one of our prefects is a Burke. She’s alright, but no one else in the family is.”

Sirius had to bite his lip to prevent himself from laughing at both Draco and Theo’s colourful commentary of some of the families. He cleared his throat. “And what about you? Do you think Neville is daft?” He wondered if he would ever become friendly with the child of two of James and Lily’s closest friends.

He watched as Harry shrugged and shook his head. 

“I think he’s just uncertain. Shy maybe… I dunno.” Harry paused for a moment. “I’ve never had an issue with him, even if he _does_ hang out with Weasley all the time.”

Sirius nodded slowly. It was something he could work with. “The Longbottom family is closely related to the Black family. They married into my family maybe a generation or two ago. Harfang Longbottom married Callidora Black.” He waved his wand at the tapestry before them, highlighting the union between the two pureblood families. “They are also somewhat related to the Weasley, Crouch, _and_ Potter families.” Those relative sections of the tapestry lit up as he listed off the family names.

He looked at Harry who was watching the tapestry in awe. 

“I had no idea,” Harry told him quietly after a moment.

“You’ll find all of the pureblood families are all related somehow. Mostly through marriage. That’s the key thing you’ll need to remember. Another important thing to understand is that _all_ pureblood families are related to my family to varying degrees. One of the perks of being the oldest Wizarding family around.” Sirius paused, thinking about how in depth he wanted to go with this lesson. He mentally shrugged to himself. No point in beating around the bush. “My mother, Walburga Black, married her cousin and my father, Orion Black.” He waved his wand at the tapestry and highlighted his mother and father’s spot on the tree. “See? They are second cousins.”

“Why?” Harry couldn’t keep the shock and disgust out of his voice.

Sirius chuckled. “Because some families — my parents especially — believed that the purer the blood, the more important you were. They believed that to have Black blood practically made you royal.” He sighed tiredly. “Of course, that inbred rubbish led to the downfall of the family. Too many cousins marrying cousins. All that nonsense. I am the last of the Black’s. At least on the male line. So the name, that’s what that means.” He looked at Harry closely. “No one else has the last name of Black except me.”

Harry nodded slowly. “Why’s your name all blurry though? I can barely see it. And who’s that next to you on the tree?”

Sirius grinned. His godson was sharp. “I was blasted off the Black family tapestry when I was sixteen. Disowned for refusing to follow my parents teachings. It still shows up here because my dear old mum didn’t leave the house to do it to every single tapestry out there that has the Black family on it. There are a handful of other blurry people on this tapestry that have also been blasted off the tapestry at my childhood home.” He frowned. “Apparently the _Pureblood Directory_ erased me almost completely. Mum probably paid to have it done, if I’m being honest with you. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit.” He shrugged. “But, that’s alright, that book is rubbish anyway.”

He cleared his throat before continuing. “The person next to me was my brother, Regulus. He died back in 1979. He was eighteen years old.”

“How?”

Sirius gave Harry a sad smile in response. “He was a Death Eater,” he cautiously informed him. “The _official_ word is that he got cold feet and tried to run.” He shook his head. “You don’t ever get to rescind your service to the Death Eaters or Voldemort. Ever.” Another pause. “I assume he was killed on the orders of Voldemort.” He cleared his throat once again. “His body was never found though, which is somewhat suspicious. I remember back then they used to leave the bodies of the traitors in the streets. In Diagon Alley, or some other Wizarding locale, to send a message to their families or to anyone else who was thinking of fleeing.”

“Why’d he get cold feet?” Harry asked him. His curiosity was obvious in his tone of voice.

Sirius merely smiled at Harry before shrugging. “Don’t know. We weren’t in communication with one another at the time.”

Not the entire truth, but he wouldn’t let Harry get caught up in his brother’s mess if he could help it. Sirius needed to figure out what Regulus meant from the letter he had sent him long ago out of the blue. 

He needed to sit down with Remus and go through his stuff. Find the letter once again and see if his brother had told him anything specific that he was too stupid to realise back in the seventies.

He hummed for a moment, focusing on Harry once again. “So… about the gala that is going to take place here in a few days.”

Harry nodded. His nervousness was obvious.

“I have an idea to help you out a bit.”

“Oh?”

“Narcissa actually suggested it to me the other day, and it makes sense.” Sirius gave Harry an understanding smile. “We were thinking for you to stand next to me when everyone arrives. When all the introductions are being done.”

He watched as Harry’s brow furrowed. 

“Okay,” his godson replied slowly. His confusion evident.

“I am a Black,” Sirius began explaining to him. “It’s time I use my name for an advantage. Everyone there is considered to be lower than me in terms of Wizarding hierarchy. If you stand next to me, tradition says that I am the one doing the introductions for you.” A pause. “In other words, everyone there has to bow and curtsy to the two of us because of my role as your godfather.”

A grin slowly erupted on Harry’s face.

“Not only will you no longer have to bow to certain families as a Potter, but you’ll also be introduced to every single family there, which should help you in the long run with everything.” Sirius raised a brow. “How does that sound?”

“I’d like that,” Harry replied. “A lot.”

Sirius nodded in agreement. “Introductions at these events are somewhat serious affairs. When you are introduced to your friends, don’t expect a hug or a smile. Don’t even expect any form of acknowledgement that you know each other. Don’t take it personally, it is just how they are. It’s tradition.” He paused, thinking back to the galas he was forced to attend as a child. “After the introductions are complete, however, the children are allowed to socialise with each other until the food is served.”

“And then?”

“And then you sit down next to me at the table and we eat our fancy meal.” Sirius sighed. “You’ll have to bear with me as I will no doubt have to talk with far too many people there. But, during that time, I really want you to listen closely to what everyone is discussing. Listen closely to what people are saying, or _aren’t_ saying. It’ll help you once you get older. Now is the time for practise, and here at Malfoy Manor is probably one of the best places for you to do it.”

“Alright.”

“After the meal, there will no doubt be some sort of dancing.” He grinned at Harry’s shocked expression. “If you don’t wish to dance with anyone, stick close to me.” A pause. “We can deal with your dancing abilities later.”

“My dancing abilities?”

“Yep. You’ll likely need to get some lessons over the summer. All the kids have them.” Sirius couldn’t hide his amusement any longer. He started chuckling. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, I promise. I’ll try to find someone good to teach you.”

“Did you have to do them?”

Sirius nodded. “Started when I was four, to help with my posture. Began full lessons with a partner when I was seven. Carried on with them until I went to Hogwarts.” He frowned. “Most children will continue with the lessons off and on until they become of age. I didn’t because my mother and father didn’t want to have anything to do with a Gryffindor.” He sniffed. “I wasn’t complaining though. Really. I didn’t need lessons anymore. And I had no plan to participate in any of this fluffy stuff any longer.” He frowned. “Well… maybe not when I was eleven or twelve, I was mostly just confused and afraid back then. But, as I got older I rejected it more and more. Anything traditional I tossed out of my life.”

Silence for a few moments as Harry digested all of the information.

“Did my father have to do all this?” Harry was curious.

Sirius chuckled once again. “Yep. James was rubbish at dancing though. Hopefully you don’t get your dancing skills from him.”

~ | ~

Harry stiffly stood next to Sirius in the grand entrance of Malfoy Manor. The first of the guests were about to arrive and they needed to be ready to greet everyone.

The Malfoy’s had gone all out, it looked like. There were floating candles, sparkling chandeliers, and fairies all fluttering about the Manor. Not to mention the water fountains and magically falling snow. It reminded Harry of the Great Hall back at Hogwarts. Just a lot more luxurious.

He was nervous; afraid that he would butcher something up and offend a family without even knowing it.

He cleared his throat before blowing out a long breath. He needed to calm down. This wasn’t at all like the parties Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia held from time to time. 

Those were a lot smaller, for one. But also, he had never participated in any of them. Ever.

He had always remained locked in his cupboard with a slice of bread, some cheese, and a glass of water, while the Dursley’s and their friends feasted on hams and potatoes and whatever sickly sweet dish his aunt would make for dessert.

Harry wasn’t even certain if the food tasted any good. For all he knew, it might have been incredibly foul. But, it really didn’t matter if it tasted like something found in a bin outside the local shop. It always smelled delicious and made his stomach hurt every single time those parties were held. He remembered those times when he was forced to nibble on his cheese sandwich on the lumpy mattress in the dark of his cupboard.

“Alright?” Sirius asked him quietly. Bringing his attention to the present once again.

Harry gave him a nod. “A bit nervous.” He scratched his collar slightly and fiddled with his bowtie. The dress robes he was wearing were fancier than anything he had ever worn before.

They were a dark colour, almost black, but with a hint of green when the light hit them just right.

Narcissa — _Lady Malfoy,_ he corrected himself mentally — informed him that his robes accented his emerald eyes exceptionally well.

“It’ll be fine, Harry,” Draco called out from the far side of Lord Malfoy. He too was fiddling with his dress robes.

“Now now Draco,” Lucius chided him quietly. “Heir Potter is unfamiliar with such events. He is allowed to be nervous. For now.” He gave Harry a tight smile and a curt nod of his head.

Harry watched as he turned slightly to look at Sirius next to Harry. His expression turning cold.

“I trust you have come up with a plan to explain his unfamiliarity with such galas?” He raised a brow in question. “We wouldn’t want the boy to _insult_ any high-standing family due to his lack of knowledge of such traditions. It wouldn’t look good, considering he has been living in the Manor for the last few days.”

Sirius sighed. “Of course, Lucius.” A pause. “I will be distracting everyone with my charm. You’ve nothing to worry about.”

The roar of the fireplace interrupted Lucius’ retort.

Harry swallowed tightly as a regal looking, older gentleman stepped out of the floo, followed closely by Theo.

He blinked. _The Nott’s._

“Lord Malfoy, Lady Malfoy,” Lord Nott greeted the hosts with a slight bow. Silky and smooth. He gestured to Theo standing slightly behind him. “Theodore Nott, my Heir.”

Harry watched in curiosity as the Malfoy’s introduced themselves. Eventually, after a bit of quiet chatter, the Nott’s made their way over towards him and Sirius.

“Lord Black, Heir Potter,” Theo’s father stated formally to the two of them as he and Theo gave them a curt bow. His pale eyes, emotionless. “May I introduce my Heir, Theodore Nott?” He focused his gaze onto Harry. “A dormmate of Mr. Potter’s.”

Sirius quietly cleared his throat. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, young Theodore. You as well, Thelonius.” He looked down at Harry for a moment. “My godson, Harry, has mentioned Theodore as being one of his close friends. I look forward to watching them become men together.”

Lord Nott smirked. “As do I.” He paused for a moment. “I never realised you were Mr. Potter’s godfather.”

Harry looked up at Sirius as he waited for his reply.

“Well,” he sighed. “It wasn’t exactly hidden away, that fact.” Sirius quirked his head slightly at Lord Nott. “Perhaps you just weren’t notified. For various reasons, of course.”

Harry looked back to the Nott’s. Theodore was nervous and fidgeting slightly with his dress robe sleeves. Thelonius merely chuckled quietly. Almost threateningly.

“Of course.” He gave Sirius and Harry a nod of his head before steering his son away from the pair of them.

More families had begun to arrive. Harry was introduced to the Parkinson, Bulstrode, and Avery families next. Shortly after that, the Greengrass family showed up along with the Macmillan’s.

Harry was introduced to Ernest Macmillan, who was a Hufflepuff student in the same year as him.

“Perhaps my Ernie and Harry can become friends,” Lord Macmillan suggested to Sirius eagerly. “The two of them are both stuck in the dungeons of that dreary school. What better reason to connect with one another, eh?”

Sirius chuckled quietly, placing a firm hand on Harry’s shoulder. “Well, that is entirely up to my godson, isn’t it? I would hate to be one of those old goats dictating his life choices now wouldn’t I?”

Harry hid his laughter with a well-placed cough. Ernie was trying to hide his smirk at Sirius’ commentary. He scratched at his nose as he caught Harry’s gaze. 

He gave him a curt nod and he, his mother, and his father carried on past them.

“Do you have to be such an arse?” Narcissa muttered to Sirius quietly.

Sirius chuckled. “Yes. I do actually.” A pause. “It’s part of my charm, being a Black and all.”

Narcissa merely sighed and shook her head at her cousin as more and more families began their introductions.

Harry was beginning to lose track of everyone he was introduced to. It was slightly overwhelming just how many Wizarding families there were at this gala. Still he fought to keep his focus on the introductions, feeling that it was vitally important that he learned about everyone present.

He hid a yawn behind his hand. This was going to be a long night.

~ | ~

“Where has young Harry been all this time?” Thelonius asked Sirius curiously over pre-dinner drinks. “No one heard word about him until he made his debut, if you will, at Hogwarts in September.”

Sirius took a small sip of his Scotch as he thought of his answer. “Around.” He gave Lord Nott a tight smile. “I am uncertain of the specific locations, but he was under the care of Albus Dumbledore until I was released from Azkaban.”

The older man looked at Sirius in shock before grimacing. “How dreadful.” He shook his head.

Nott took a sip of his own Scotch before clearing his throat. “I am pleased that your miscarriage of justice was sorted out. Eventually.” He gave Sirius a cool grin. “I never would have believed that Pettigrew was a Death Eater without your testimony _or_ his confession. He is a mouse of a man, at best.”

Sirius chuckled dryly. “Well… he _is_ a rat, that’s for certain.”

Thelonius hummed, an amused expression on his face. “And you know what they say about rats, don’t you?” He paused for a moment, making certain Sirius was paying close attention. “For them, a small hole is like a door.” 

He tossed back the last of his drink and strolled away from Sirius.

Sirius stared down at his own drink, wondering what the hell Nott was getting at. Just what exactly he was telling him.

“Dinner is ready,” Narcissa murmured to him. Drawing his attention back to the present.

He cleared his throat. “Fantastic.” He followed the rest of the guests into the formal dining room.

~ | ~

“Do you have a favourite subject, Mr. Potter?”

Harry looked up from his dish of blanquette de veau, fork held tightly in his hand. Lord Greengrass was watching him with curiosity. Waiting for his reply.

Harry swallowed, before meeting Professor Snape’s gaze across the table from him. “Potions, sir.” He wasn’t certain if there was a correct answer to such a question.

Snape gave him an almost imperceptible nod of his head as he sipped on his red Claret.

Apparently there was a right answer after all. He grinned at Lord Greengrass, relieved he had given the correct response.

“Ah,” Gareth smiled kindly at Harry. “And does Mr. Potter succeed in your class, Severus?”

Harry watched as Snape placed his wine glass back down on the table. He gave the wizards and witches listening in, a curt nod of his head. “He does.” A beat. “He takes after his father in the subject.”

“His mother, too,” Sirius chimed in quietly.

Harry watched as Snape frowned ever-so-slightly before giving his godfather a nod of his head.

Harry went back to work on his meal once again as everyone continued to chatter with one another. The blanquette de veau was quite delicious. It was far different from what his aunt and uncle had during their parties. More eloquent.

“Have you given any thought to what we discussed earlier, Lucius?” Lord Parkinson piped up after some time.

Harry’s ears perked as he continued to listen in on the conversation.

“I have thought about it, but have yet to come to a decision, Fergus,” Lucius drawled. “It is something I must discuss with my wife. I am sure you understand.”

“Of course, of course.” He smiled tightly at the Malfoys. “No rush.”

“And have you considered what _we_ discussed earlier?” Lord Nott questioned after a moment. His keenness, evident on his face.

Harry sipped his pumpkin juice as he waited for Lord Malfoy to answer.

“It _is_ something to consider,” Lucius conceded slowly. Cautiously. “However, determining whether your theories are true or not will likely never happen, I am sorry to say Thelonius.”

Harry watched as Sirius stirred his food around on his plate. He too was listening in on the conversation. 

Lord Nott chuckled quietly as he took a drink of his wine. “Perhaps you’re right.” A beat. “Perhaps not.”

~ | ~

“What was _that_ conversation about?” Sirius asked as he poured Narcissa her gimlet and handed it to her in the study. 

He got to work pouring himself three fat fingers of aged firewhiskey. He needed the drink after putting up with the nonsense all evening long.

He clutched his tumbler as he turned to face his cousin once again.

She sighed before sipping her cocktail. “Which conversation, Sirius? You’ll have to be more specific.”

Sirius frowned. “Thelonius’ conversation with your husband over dinner.”

Narcissa rolled her eyes as she leaned against the mahogany desk in the centre of the room. “I haven’t a clue. Truly.” She shook her head. “I was barely listening to him blabber on and on. I was too focused on what Fergus had propositioned earlier in the evening.”

“Oh?” He took a drink. Wincing as it burned on the way down.

“The Parkinson’s wish to draw up a betrothal agreement.” She pursed her lips at the thought. “Apparently little Pansy couldn’t stop speaking about Draco over the break. Draco _and_ Harry. You best watch to make certain nothing comes of it for Harry. Poor boy, if that ends up being the case. Petal Parkinson is a leach. Fergus isn’t much better.” A pause. “He’s also a supporter of… you know.” She trailed off quietly as her husband entered into the study.

Sirius hummed as he watched Lucius make his way towards the cellarette.

Lucius looked between the two of them before pouring himself a glass of brandy. “Thelonius believes that Mr. Potter is a _new_ Dark Lord.”

“Seriously?” Sirius snorted, shaking his head. “On what grounds?”

Lucius shrugged. “Of that I am uncertain. He believes he knows something of the boy. Refuses to comment further.” He looked between his wife and Sirius. “He could just be talking big to see our reaction to such a ludicrous suggestion. I wouldn’t put it past him to do such a thing.” He took a sip of his brandy.

Sirius hummed in agreement, but remained silent. He was watching Narcissa closely. Wondering if the soul-splitting thing his brother had mentioned in his letter had anything to do with Lord Nott’s theory. 

And if so, how?

  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

Hermione sniffed, trying desperately to hold back her tears as she hugged her parents goodbye just outside Platform 9 & ¾. 

They had a quiet Christmas together, just the three of them. Both her mother and father had actually shut down their dental practise for the entire break from school. An action that they had never done before, for as long as Hermione could remember.

“It’s only a few months, sweetheart,” her mother reminded her as she discreetly wiped a stray tear from Hermione’s cheek. “We will be right here to pick you up at the end of June.” 

“I know mum.” Hermione cleared her throat as she readjusted the collar of her winter cape. A gift from her parents that they had picked up in Diagon Alley two days after Christmas. 

“We look forward to hearing about all your classes,” her father told her quietly with a smile. “And your adventures. We’re chuffed that you’ve made some friends.” He paused, searching for the right words. “Please do continue to send us letters. I quite like waking up to little Einstein pecking at the window.”

Hermione giggled. “Now you’re just being silly.” She brushed her cheek with the back of her hand. “Thank you for speaking with me about,” she sighed, “about everything. Thank you for answering all my questions as best as you could.”

Both her mother and father nodded. 

“It was the least we could do,” her father told her. He squeezed her shoulder.

“You should board your train,” her mother replied softly. “You want to make certain you’ve got a carriage big enough for you and your friends, no?”

Hermione nodded. “Of course. I’ll see you both in June.” She cleared her throat once again and grasped onto her trunk. She looked between her mother and father one last time before running through the barrier to Platform 9 & ¾.

She slowed once she reached the platform. The Hogwarts Express was already in the station, waiting to be boarded.

A few families were present on the platform. Parents saying goodbye to their children heading back to school.

Hermione spotted a Hufflepuff girl in her year sobbing as her father hugged her before she boarded the Express.

Coming to a halt at an open carriage door, Hermione repositioned her trunk and began attempting to lift the thing onto the train. 

She had difficulties with it back on the 1st of September. Four months in, and she was no wiser as to how to get the thing onto the train.

“Let me help you with that,” a man called out to her and made his way forward.

Hermione looked up at the man. The father of the Hufflepuff girl who had been crying. “Thank you ever so much,” she said to him as he easily lifted her trunk for her onto the train.

“It’s not a problem.” He gave her a friendly grin. “Muggleborn, are you?”

Hermione looked at him in shock. “Pureblood, actually.” She tilted her chin up, challenging him to question her blood status.

“Ah.” He raised both his hands in a placating gesture. “I just assumed because you arrived on the platform alone. My apologies.” He held out a hand for her to shake. “Wilfred Bones.”

She took his hand and gave it a curt shake. “Granger. Hermione Granger, of the Dagworth-Granger family. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” She could see the surprise on his face as she introduced herself.

“Well… it is an _absolute_ pleasure to meet you, Miss Granger,” Mr. Bones said to her with a grin. “And what house did you get sorted into?”

Hermione grinned. “Slytherin, of course.”

Mr. Bones’ smile faded ever-so-slightly. “Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Well… I hope you have a splendid term, Miss Granger.” He nodded at Hermione, before stepping away from her rather quickly. Disappearing into the platform that was beginning to fill up with students and families saying their goodbyes.

Hermione shook her head at his reaction and stepped up into the carriage, tugging her trunk behind her. It was something she was already used to at Hogwarts. To see it outside of the school was something she hadn’t expected.

She hummed to herself as she began her trek through the train dragging her trunk behind her, searching for the Slytherin section.

It took her a few minutes to spot it near the rear of the train. The green of someone’s robe catching her eye.

Hurrying her pace to make sure she got a seat, she meandered around a large number of students pouring in from a nearby door. She felt her trunk bump into one of the boys. Rolling over his foot.

“Oi! Watch where you're dragging that thing!”

Hermione winced. “My apologies. Really.” She tried to continue on, but was being blocked by a fat boy in a Gryffindor scarf. “Pardon me. I need to get by.”

“Hang on, would you!” He snapped at her as he tried to push his trunk into an already full carriage.

Hermione sighed. Trying not to seem too impatient.

“Awe. The snake is uncomfortable outside of her cage.” The boy she bumped into jeered at her. His grin was ugly. Patronising.

Hermione bit her lip to keep herself from snapping at the boy. A fifth year, at least.

A hand grabbed her shoulder. Hermione shrugged it off and took a step away from the boys. “Bugger off!”

“She’s got teeth, this one.” He made a point to grab her arm.

“Don’t touch me!” Hermione yelped. She tried to get further away from the boys, to no avail. She had nowhere to go.

Chuckling. Sneering.

“Is there a problem here?” A smooth voice questioned from just outside the door into the train.

The group turned as one to look in the direction from where the voice came.

Sirius and Harry were standing just outside the carriage. Sirius had his arms crossed and eyebrows raised as if he were bored. Harry was openly glaring at the handful of older boys.

The ringleader cleared his throat. “No, Lord Black. No problem at all, sir.” His tone contrite. 

“Good.” 

Sirius focused on Hermione standing a few paces away. He held open his arms and plastered on a grin. “Hermione. Nice to see you again.” He subtly gestured for her to step closer to him.

Hermione took a step or two towards Harry’s godfather where he gave her a kiss on each cheek in greeting and a tight hug.

She pulled back, just wondering what he had planned. She raised a solitary brow at the man. “Sirius. It is wonderful to see you as well.”

He grinned at her. “I trust you and your parents found the accommodations I provided to be pleasant?” A pause. “I haven’t been to the old Black vineyard in quite some time.”

Hermione nodded, keen to play along. “It was…,” she paused searching for the correct word, _“adequate._ Thank you very much.”

His grin grew wider. “I’m pleased to hear it.” He hoisted Harry’s trunk up into the carriage. “How are your mother and father doing? Busy with work, I hear.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes. But, they do look forward to having tea with you. Mother mentioned you had brought it up before Christmas.”

Sirius nodded. “I did as a matter of fact. Inform her to expect my owl soon.”

Hermione smiled at Harry’s godfather, thankful for the role he was playing. He was obviously trying to protect her from any sort of bullying due to the house she’d been sorted into. “I will owl to let them know.” 

She gave Harry a warm grin before turning her attention back to his godfather. “Thank you again.” A pause. “For everything,” she added on quietly.

She spun around, holding back her smirk as the older students practically darted out of her way.

~ | ~

“Did you have a good Christmas, Harry?” Hermione asked her friend as the train began to pull out of King’s Cross Station.

Harry nodded, a grin plastered on his face. “I-I did.” He paused. “The best that I can remember,” he told her quietly.

“He did good at the gala too,” Daphne chimed in as she got comfortable in the seat next to Hermione. “You should’ve been there Hermione. It was good fun.”

Hermione shared a smile with both Harry and Draco. “What was it like? I’ve never been to one before.”

Harry shrugged. “It was…” he paused, searching for the correct words. “It was really neat to be a part of,” he told her quietly. He was looking at Draco, frowning slightly. “It was fancy… like… the things you read about in muggle fairy tales.” He chuckled quietly, searching Hermione’s eyes. “Not that you know what muggle fairy tales are like, of course.”

Draco had a slight grin on his face, his expression curious.

“Snow falling indoors, floating candles, fairies. Fancy food.” Harry shrugged. “All that stuff.”

Hermione nodded in understanding. She knew exactly what he meant. A fancy Hogwarts. Something… _magical._

“And time spent with Sirius was good as well?” She asked Harry quietly.

He nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah.” He nodded once again. “Yeah.”

Draco cleared his throat. “Sirius took Harry out almost everyday for stuff. He was barely at the Manor at all.” He had a grin on his face. “Got you some new dress robes, which were rather dashing — even mother liked them. Some other clothes as well. Clothing that fit; that was yours.”

Harry nodded some more. “Both muggle wear and wizard wear. I don’t have to wear only my uniform now outside of classes. New glasses as well,” he added as an afterthought.

“He taught you about some of the pureblood families as well,” Theo chimed in from the other side of Draco. “Some of the etiquette.”

“A bit, yeah.” Harry frowned. “I didn’t realise most pureblood families were all related. That they are _all_ related to the Black family.”

“Through marriage,” Draco, Theo, and Daphne all said as one.

“A side effect from being the oldest Wizarding family in Britain,” Draco informed Hermione knowingly.

Theo started laughing abruptly; his entire body shaking. “He even knew to say that potions was his favourite class!” He slapped his thigh. “I almost choked on my pumpkin juice!”

Hermione hid her smile behind her hand as Daphne and Draco started chuckling.

Harry merely shook his head. No doubt having already dealt with much of the teasing over winter break.

“You’ve got to explain this one to me Harry,” Hermione insisted. “How did that happen?”

“My papa asked him during the gala dinner,” Daphne choked out, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. “Poor Harry. Professor Snape was sitting directly across from him too.”

Draco started laughing harder.

“I wasn’t certain if there was a right answer to the question or not,” Harry began explaining to her. He shrugged. “I figured the safest thing to say was potions considering our Head of House teaches it.”

Theo nodded. “It _was_ the right answer Harry. Really.” He looked to Hermione as if explaining to her as well. “If he would’ve picked flying class, for instance, he would’ve been ridiculed for not taking his education seriously.”

“And if Harry picked some rubbish like history, he would’ve been lectured about how awful Dumbledore is as Headmaster, having a bloody ghost teaching the class,” Draco added on. “Potions was the smartest — _and safest_ — thing he could’ve said.”

Hermione grinned at her friends, thankful that Harry was able to have some fun for once over winter break.

A few more minutes passed as the little group got their laughter back under control.

“How was your break, Hermione?” Daphne asked her quietly, looping an arm with her own.

Hermione nodded. “It was really quite nice,” she insisted. “I got to spend all my break with my mother and father. I really missed them, being so far away.” She gestured to her winter cape hanging on the peg on the wall. “I got some nice new clothing as well, same as Harry.”

“That is a beautiful cape,” Daphne complimented her. “Wherever did you get it?”

“Madam Malkin’s of all places,” Hermione informed her pleasantly. “Mother insisted that I get it.”

The group of Slytherins continued to catch up with each other for the remainder of the train ride back to Hogwarts, stopping only for a moment to purchase numerous sweets off of the trolley.

~ | ~

“So… did you find out anything?” Harry quietly asked her in the Slytherin common room after the welcoming feast of the new year. “About... you know?”

Hermione sighed as she closed her history textbook she had been reading and focused her attention on her friend.

“A bit,” she admitted. “But, honestly not much.” She frowned, trying to figure out where to begin. She scratched at her head, careful not to get her hand caught in her curls.

“I was adopted from Wool’s Orphanage in London,” Hermione told Harry quietly. Making certain no one in the common room was listening in on their private conversation. “Mother and father drove by to show me where it was located. It’s been torn down somewhat recently. There are office buildings there now.” A pause. “I don’t even know where to begin to find out just who left me there. I don’t know how I could find a name or something.” She sighed. “There’s got to be records somewhere. It’s just… I’m _twelve_ — who’s going to give records to a twelve year old girl?”

“What if I asked Sirius to look into it?”

“Harry —”

“He’s really interested, Hermione,” Harry cut her off. “He wants to know who you are.” He gave her a grin. “And he’s not as clueless as some of the other wizards and witches about the muggle world.” A pause. “Perhaps Remus could help him. He knows his way around the muggle world as well, he’s half-blood apparently. His mother was a muggle, father a wizard.” A pause. “Sirius said he tends to work sometimes in the muggle world when he can. Picks up the odd job here and there,” Harry quietly ended his rambling.

Hermione remained silent. She didn’t know what to say.

“Please, Hermione. They can help.” He was persistent.

Hermione sighed tiredly. She thought about his proposal for a moment. The pros and cons of what he had suggested. She knew she needed help figuring out her identity, but it was still a bit overwhelming for her. A fact made painfully clear during the winter break.

Helen and Artie Granger _were_ her parents in every definition of the word. Biological or not. She didn’t want to lose them.

They _were_ her mum and dad.

Hermione sniffed; scratching at her cheek as she took in her best friend sitting directly across from her.

He was eager. But, also cautious. Figuring out the identity of the Wizarding family she was from would likely open up a whole can of worms. It was something that they both were beginning to understand the more time they spent in the Wizarding World.

_But..._

But, she still needed to know. She needed the information to make sense of it all.

She gave Harry a shaky nod of her head. 

“Alright.” Quiet. Barely above a whisper.

~ | ~

“Wait.” Remus held up his hand to stop Sirius from speaking. “Explain it to me from the beginning please. _Slower.”_

The two men were sitting in a sleepy muggle coffee shop in North London, before the morning rush. Each of them nursing a cup of coffee and a freshly baked muffin.

Sirius sighed before taking a sip of his drink. He frowned for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to explain everything to his friend.

“Harry’s friend, Hermione Granger, was informed by the sorting hat that she was hidden away from the Wizarding World,” he began quietly. “She was adopted by a muggle family a few months after she was born.” He searched Remus’ eyes making certain he was following along. “Harry has asked if I can investigate who she is. Hermione asked him. I’d like you to help me. I’m a bit rusty with my muggle knowledge.”

Remus nodded slowly. “Alright.” Another frown. “How exactly?”

Sirius cleared his throat. He tossed a piece of muffin in his mouth and chewed for a moment.

“Well… she was adopted from Wool’s Orphanage apparently, November 1979. The place was torn down. Office buildings are there now. I checked.” A pause. “But, I would assume that there must be some sort of parchment trail of who left her there. Correct?”

“Paper trail,” Remus corrected quietly. He narrowed his eyes at Sirius as he sipped his coffee. “In theory, yes. However, it’s not uncommon for babies to be dropped off without anyone ever seeing the mother or father. There is a thing called a baby hatch at a few hospitals and orphanages. When I worked as a janitor at St. Mary’s Hospital years ago, we had to check the hatch every few hours.”

“Did you ever find a kid?”

Remus shook his head. “I did not. However, I only worked at St. Mary’s for a few weeks before I was let go.”

Sirius deflated slightly. Uncertain. “How in _Merlin’s ballsack_ are we going to find out who she is then?”

Remus shrugged. “The muggle way? I’ve no idea.” A pause. “Her birthday is the nineteenth of September?”

Sirius nodded. “Yep. That’s what her mother and father were told by the orphanage, apparently. McGonagall also arrived on that day to inform her about Hogwarts.”

Remus sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. “I would think there must be some way to determine paternity in the Wizarding World,” he informed Sirius quietly. “With all the emphasis on blood status, there must be a family around who has some sort of information or spell that can determine lineage.”

Sirius hummed in agreement.

“I would think an _older_ family library might be the place to start,” Remus suggested slowly. “One that emphasises the importance of blood purity, for instance.”

“Yeah… but which one?” A beat. “There are plenty to choose from. But, I highly doubt they’re gonna let me inside to snoop around in their libraries.”

Remus sighed. Annoyed.

Sirius frowned, realising at once that he must have missed something. Something obvious. “You gotta spell it out for me Moony… I’m a bit slow this early in the morning.”

Remus continued to look at him as if he was the dumbest person alive. “Gee… I don’t know Sirius _Black…_ what family would you start with?”

“Oh.” A pause. _“Oh.”_

He _was_ an idiot. He grinned sheepishly at his friend.

Remus took a bite of his muffin. Amused. “Oh, indeed.”

  
  



	13. Chapter 13

Hermione looked at herself in the mirror as she spritzed in the leave-in curl conditioner on her dry hair. A muggle solution for her waywards curls.

Big ball of frizz more like, she mentally told herself.

She hoped this would work. That this simple solution would allow her to look the part of a pureblood witch

Humming softly, Hermione ran her fingers through her curls. Evenly coating each strand.

The hairdresser at the muggle salon she and her mother regularly went to, suggested she stop brushing her hair so much. To allow her curls to shine through.

Grabbing the side bits of her hair, she sectioned off the top half and wrapped a clasp in. Keeping her curls off of her face.

She allowed herself a small grin. She had found the clasp at a tiny vendor’s shop in Diagon Alley during her and her mother’s shopping trip, and had begged her mother to allow her to purchase it with her cape. It was a malleable snake that wrapped around a miniature wand. Green and silver, depending on how the light hit it.

A splurge, she knew. It had cost thirty galleons. Close to one-hundred fifty pounds.

Hermione straightened out her tie and jumper before nodding to herself in the mirror. She was ready for the day to begin.

She grabbed her toiletry bag and left the lavatory.

A gasp sounded to her left as she made her way past Pansy’s four-post bed.

“I love your clasp,” the young witch complimented her as she tossed her toiletry bag back in her open trunk. “Wherever did you get it?”

Hermione touched the clasp gently. “From a vendor in Diagon Alley when I purchased my cape. I thought it was fitting.” She gave her friend a grin. She frowned after a second of silence. “It’s not too much, is it?”

Pansy shook her head enthusiastically. “Not at all, Hermione. It’s beautiful.” She made her way over closer to her to take a closer look.

The other girls in her dormitory doing the same.

“I love the green and silver,” Millicent stated in awe.

“It’s perfect,” Daphne agreed. She gave Hermione a friendly grin. “It is very fitting, Hermione. I love it.”

Hermione grinned. Thanking her friends for their compliments.

“Are we ready to start the day then?” Tracey asked after a moment as they all threw on their outer robes.

“Yep,” Pansy hooked Hermione’s hand in her elbow. “Breakfast first, then off to Potions we go.”

The group of girls left their dormitory, making their way up the stairs into the common room and towards the Great Hall.

~ | ~

“We will be discussing the theory behind the Wiggenweld Potion for the remainder of this week as well as next,” Professor Snape stated quietly to the class as he made his way into the room. “Following the completion of the theory, you will brew said potion next Friday. It will take you the entire double period to complete the potion. Do. Not. Be. Late.” He made it to the front of the classroom, spinning around to peer at everyone present.

With a wave of his wand, the lecture notes appeared on the board behind him.

Hermione dipped her quill into her ink pot, and wrote the day’s date as well as the name of the potion.

“The Wiggenweld Potion is a powerful healing potion that can be used to heal anything from various injuries, to reversing the effects of a Sleeping Draught,” Snape began lecturing. “It can also be considered to be an antidote to the Draught of Living Death.”

Hermione was scratching away on her parchment, writing barely legible. She blew a strand of hair out of her face as she took a quick peek at the notes on the board.

“This potion, unlike many others, is able to carry out its function even if it is poorly made,” Snape informed the first years. “In other words, and this is very important, even if you make a despicable Wiggenweld Potion, it will still retain some of its healing qualities. Using a poorly brewed Wiggenweld Potion is better than using nothing at all. However, the better it is brewed, the stronger its healing abilities.”

“This is also a potion that allows for the substitution of various ingredients,” the professor continued dryly. “The potion that you will be brewing on Friday of next week will be the highest quality ingredients one can use. I suggest taking note of said ingredients. I also suggest reading your textbook to learn the various substitutions.” A pause. “It is a potion that will be tested throughout your time at Hogwarts, including your O.W.L and N.E.W.T examinations. I guarantee it.”

Harry raised a hand in question.

“Mr. Potter.” Snape gestured to Harry sitting at the table in front of Hermione.

“I’m sorry sir, but what are O.W.L and N.E.W.T examinations?”

Snape blinked. “Examinations that test the young witch or wizard on their magical education. Dreadfully difficult and highly stressful, the O.W.L and N.E.W.T examinations determine what said pupil will do as a career. Poor results mean a poor opportunity to succeed in the Wizarding World.” He paused at the look of shock on Harry’s face. “You do however, have time to prepare, the examinations are not until fifth and seventh year respectively.” A beat. “You’ve still got some time to learn all that you can, Mr. Potter.” A subtle grin was barely discernible on the professor’s face.

The professor continued his lecture as he made his way around the room, making certain the first years were following along. Making certain they were taking notes.

~ | ~

“LET’S GO HARRY!” Hermione yelled out as the Slytherin quidditch team came out onto the pitch.

“Let’s go Slytherin!” Pansy screamed from beside her. Clapping her mittened hands together in excitement, and to keep warm.

It was the third weekend in February, the match was Slytherin versus Ravenclaw, and the weather was horrendously cold.

It was difficult to see the players take the pitch from where Hermione was sitting. The heavy-falling snow obscuring her ability to see.

“Let’s hope it’s a quick match!” Theo yelled to her over the roaring crowd. “It’s freezing.” He adjusted his green and silver scarf, making certain it was covering his ears to prevent frostbite.

Hermione nodded in agreement. “It’s definitely painful.”

“I can barely see the players,” Draco called out from the other side of Theo. “Harry’s going to have to be practically on top of the snitch before he spots it.”

Hermione stomped her feet to keep the blood flowing. “He will. I just know it.”

A whistle sounded. Madam Hooch indicating the start of the match.

“AND THEY’RE OFF!” The commentator, Lee Jordan, yelled out to the crowd. “Slytherin currently lead the standings, but a win from Ravenclaw will put them in first place going into the second half of the season.”

“Right… ‘cause someone’s not at all biased.” Daphne rolled her eyes at the Gryffindor commentator’s comments.

“Bias? Here at Hogwarts?” Cassius Warrington, a Slytherin fourth year, responded dryly. Shaking his head.

Hermione shook her head in agreement. It was ridiculous and more obvious the longer she spent at Hogwarts. Just the week prior, a second year Slytherin student named Darius Berrow had to spend time in the hospital wing because of the Weasley twins and a prank that had apparently gone awry.

The entire Slytherin House was still livid that the two troublemakers had only walked away with detention for a few nights.

The crowd cheered when Slytherin scored a few minutes into the game.

“10-NIL SLYTHERIN!” Jordan roared into the megaphone.

Hermione turned her attention back to the match.

The players were zooming about, it was difficult to keep track of everyone with the heavy snowfall.

Ravenclaw soon tied it up. The crowd roared.

Hermione huffed.

A good thirty minutes were spent back and forth between the teams. Slytherin was currently leading 50-40.

“Oi!” Lee Jordan cried out. “I think something’s wrong with Potter’s broom!”

Hermione’s breath caught in her throat as she watched Harry get thrashed around by some unseen force.

“Bloody hell!” A student cried out in shock.

“Somebody help him!” Hermione screamed. She scanned the professor’s area of the bleachers, spotting not only Dumbledore watching the proceedings closely, but Snape as well.

He was muttering something, Hermione couldn’t make out what was being said. “What’s Snape doing?” She questioned those around her.

Draco leaned forward, hands on his knees as he twisted around Hermione to squint at their Head of House. “A counter charm.”

“A what?”

“Someone is jinxing Harry’s broom,” Pansy informed Hermione. 

“Quirrell,” Theo responded curtly. Raising a hand up to point at the Defence professor who was sitting directly behind Snape. “Look! He’s muttering something as well.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the professor before rising from her seat. “I’ll be right back.” She sped down the wooden steps, thankful that the Slytherin area of the bleachers was only a short distance away.

Grasping her wand tightly in one hand, Hermione moved as quickly as her legs would carry her up the steps. Ignoring the protesting strain as she bounded up towards the professors. 

Now directly underneath them. 

“Quirrell, Quirrell, Quirrell,” she muttered to herself. Trying desperately to recognize his robes peeking through the stands. _What in the blazes did he usually wear?_

A long silk scarf, purple in colour caught her eye.

Hermione grinned to herself. _Got you._

_“Incendio,”_ she hissed. Completing the appropriate wand movements. Thankful that she had paid attention in charms class.

A bright orange flame erupted on the purple scarf.

Hermione tucked her wand back in the pocket of her cape and headed back towards the Slytherin stands. Hopeful that no professor noticed that she had disappeared for a few minutes.

A scream sounded from somewhere in the stands.

Hermione’s heart was racing as she sped back towards her seat. She didn’t know what was going on. Couldn’t see the pitch from inside the staircase.

_“ARRESTO MOMENTUM!”_

Hermione’s heart stopped at the sound of Dumbledore’s voice. She returned to the stands to see Harry crash in a heap onto the pitch.

“Harry!” She bellowed out. 

“Come Granger,” Theo grabbed her arm as the rest of the Slytherin students began rushing down the stands to check on their fellow Slytherin. 

She followed in a daze. Eyes blurry from unshed tears.

Theo was speaking to her. Calmly. Soothingly.

“Dumbles got him in time,” he was muttering as they reached the ground. “He’s likely just bumped his head. His broom was thrashing quite violently. Couldn’t hang on.” 

They made their way closer to Harry who was being checked over by Madam Hooch and Dumbledore.

Somehow the ancient headmaster had beaten everyone there.

Dumbledore was conjuring up a stretcher. Madam Hooch gently placing an unconscious Harry onto the board.

“Is he hurt?” She couldn’t stop her question once they reached her unconscious friend.

Dumbledore gave her a slight shake of his head. “He will be just fine, Miss Granger. Just a bump on his head.” 

“Yeah ‘cause someone jinxed his broom,” Theo sneered out. Annoyed. He tilted his chin up at Dumbledore. Challenging him. “A professor.”

Dumbledore looked down at Theo over his halfmoon glasses. “Those are some serious accusations, Mr. Nott.”

“True though,” Hermione chimed in. “I know a jinx when I see one, Headmaster. Professor Quirrell was jinxing Harry’s broom. He was trying to kill Harry.”

“Nonsense.” Dumbledore brushed them aside and followed the floating stretcher holding Harry up to the school and towards the hospital wing.

“I’ll write to my father,” Draco said from behind them. “Let him know what kind of school this has become with Dumbledore as Headmaster.”

Hermione shared a worried look with her friends.

This was far more serious than any of them realised. She just knew it.

~ | ~

“Which one of you set fire to Professor Quirrell’s robes?” Snape queried quietly as he stepped into the Slytherin common room, letting the door clamp shut heavily behind him.

Silence.

Hermione swallowed. Her throat tight with worry. She would be expelled for such an action.

“Why do you think it’s one of us, sir?” A fifth year innocently questioned in return.

Hermione watched as Snape raised a single brow at the question. A small smirk barely present on his face.

“I _know_ it was one of you because the Slytherin stands are the closest to the professors.” He began slowly looking around the room. Intimidating without even threatening. “Who was it?”

Silence.

Hermione exhaled slowly. She needed to tell the truth. It would eat her alive if she didn’t.

She stepped forward. “It was me, professor.” She swallowed. “I hit him with an _incendio_. His purple scarf specifically.”

She looked down at the floor with tears in her eyes, waiting for her punishment. Mind whirring with what she would tell her mother and father once she was undoubtedly expelled for attacking a teacher.

“Twenty points to Slytherin for a perfect execution of the fire-making spell, Miss Granger.” A pause. Hermione looked up at him in shock. “If anyone asks, you received the points for exceptional potions work.”

“I’m sorry… _what?”_ She couldn’t hide her disbelief, looking at Snape with wide eyes.

She wiped her cheek.

“You saw a threat and took care of it,” Snape informed her, almost boredly. “That and it really, truly was a fantastic _incendio._ I had difficulty putting it out. _”_

Hermione was speechless. Confused.

A slap on her shoulder.

“Is Harry going to be alright, Professor Snape?” Draco asked from beside Hermione.

A curt nod. “He broke an arm and has a concussion, but he will be just fine. He will be spending the night in the infirmary.”

“And Professor Quirrell?”

Snape frowned. “He was supplied a salve for his ankle and is now resting in his quarters. Unfortunately, he survived the ordeal.”

A quiet chuckle sounded around the common room.

“Well… it’s still only February, sir,” a seventh year called out. “Still have a few months of the school year to go.”

“Indeed.”

Snape spun around and left the room. Cloak billowing behind him as he left the students to congratulate Hermione on her actions.

“But... I hurt someone.” She was so confused.

“Oh tosh,” Marcus Flint waved off her concern. “He cost us the game.”

“And he’s a rubbish professor,” another seventh year told Hermione with a grin. “Haven’t learned a damn thing in that class all year long.”

“His leg will heal just fine.” Pansy grinned at her and gave her a wink. She gave Hermione a warm hug. “Thank you for not losing your head in a time of stress like the rest of us did,” she murmured in her ear. “Thank you for defending Harry.”

~ | ~

“What’s going on?” Sirius asked the moment he stepped out of the floo at Malfoy Manor. He was flustered and afraid. The full moon with Remus a few days earlier had taken a toll on his friend and he had been trying to heal his wounds a best as possible.

He was out of practise, he could admit to himself. He needed to purchase an abundance of healing potions and salves to help Remus. An action he hadn't had to take in years.

He had just received an owl from Narcissa this morning at his and Remus’ new place, alerting him that he needed to come to the Manor as soon as possible.

Narcissa held up a hand in a placating gesture. “We’ve just received an owl from Draco. It’s dated Monday evening.”

Sirius frowned. “But, it's Thursday. Why did it take so long?”

Narcissa gave him a pointed look.

He withered at her stare, gesturing for her to continue. “My apologies.”

“We’ve just received an owl from Draco,” she repeated quietly as she led him into the dining room. “He stated that Harry was hurt during the quidditch game this past weekend.”

“WHAT!”

“He’s fine,” Lucius cut him off quickly. “Harry has healed just fine.”

Sirius’ hands were shaking with emotion. Narcissa pulled out a chair for him to sit down in.

A squeeze on his shoulder before she returned to her own chair.

“He’s okay, Sirius.” She looked at him imploringly.

Sirius clenched his jaw tightly. Grinding his teeth. He gave her a curt nod. “Injuries happen in quidditch,” he reminded himself quietly. He still should’ve been there to protect Harry.

The overlapping of the full moon and the quidditch match had made him uneasy. 

“Draco informed me that someone had jinxed his broom,” Lucius informed him quietly.

_What?_

“Excuse me?”

“According to Draco, Mr. Potter’s broom was thrashing about violently at one point in the game. He was unable to hang on after a while.” Lucius held up a hand to prevent Sirius from interrupting him. “Mr. Potter fell from a height. The Headmaster, however, was able to slow down his fall before he hit the ground.”

“He broke an arm and bumped his head,” Narcissa finished quietly. “Draco stated that Harry has healed completely. He returned to the Slytherin common room after a night spent in the infirmary.”

“How?” He frowned. “Why the hell wasn't I informed?”

Lucius looked at him pointedly. “Surely you can’t be _that_ stupid.” A pause. “It’s the same reason it took four days for Draco’s letter to reach us.”

“Dumbledore.”

“Indeed.” Lucius sighed before taking a sip of his tea. “According to Draco, it was Professor Quirrell who jinxed the broom.”

“Severus gifted Miss Granger twenty house points for setting the Defence professor on fire,” Narcissa chimed in dryly. “Told her to tell anyone who asked that it was for her exceptional potions work.”

“What the hell?” He scratched at his hair. His mind whirring. “The Defence professor?” He questioned the two. “The same professor who is scared of his own shadow and stinks of garlic? That’s who Draco believes jinxed Harry’s broom?” 

He looked between Narcissa and Lucius. “Is there any word that one Quirinus Quirrell is a secret supporter of Voldemort?”

“None.” Lucius frowned. “The man is a known half-blood, for one. And a fool. There is no way he would be aligned with the Dark Lord.”

“Severus is a half-blood as well,” Sirius reminded him. “He aligned himself with your Dark Lord just fine.”

“And he’s had to prove his worth time and time again.” Lucius looked at him pointedly. “I’m sure you remember your time with him at Hogwarts. Severus is no fool.”

Sirius sighed. Lucius was correct. Snivellus knew loads of dark magic even as a kid. “You think Draco was wrong then? You think he is mistaken in identifying Quirrell as the culprit who jinxed Harry’s broom?”

“Perhaps it was a student,” Narcissa suggested to him quietly. 

“Because he’s a Slytherin.” Sirius held his head in his hands. Trying desperately to make sense of it all.

  
  
  



	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the wait for this chapter.
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ❤️❤️

“I mean… Albus didn’t even notify me that Harry had been hurt, Moony!” Sirius whined to his best friend as they made their way down the pavement towards Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. “No owl. No floo call. _Nothing!”_ He was practically growling, he was so furious. “Bloody _Lucius_ informed me.”

Remus stopped walking and frowned at Sirius. “Perhaps he was more focused on figuring out who jinxed Harry’s broom than he was with notifying you.” A sigh as he continued the slow trek, hand clutching a cane.

“I’m his guardian!” Sirius insisted. “How am I supposed to look after him if I’m being left in the dark?”

“Who did the kids say jinxed Harry’s broom again?” Remus was obviously ignoring Sirius’ complaining. His whinging.

Sirius frowned at the question. “The Defence professor… Quirrell is his name.”

Remus merely hummed at the information before shrugging after a moment. “At least we all know he’ll be gone at the end of the year.”

“And there are only a few months left,” Sirius continued Remus’ train of thought. “Perhaps he’ll run out of garlic before then and he’ll flee the premises.”

“Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.” Remus’ impersonation of the Headmaster was uncanny.

Sirius started snorting with laughter. “You’re such an arse.” He got his chuckling under control after a moment or two. “Merlin, I hated his ridiculous sayings. Every _bloody_ dinner, it seemed.”

“Yes… well… they start to lose their _illumination_ after the twentieth or thirtieth time.” His distaste was obvious. 

_“That,_ and there was a war going on where half of the students were fearing for their lives, while the other half were getting Dark Marks burned into their flesh.” Sirius shook his head. “And half the time, those that _were_ getting Dark Marks didn’t have a choice in the matter. It was bloody well expected of them!”

He didn’t need to mention his brother by name. He knew Remus understood.

They came to a stop in front of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Sirius peered at it with unease. He really didn’t want to set foot in his childhood home. Far too many skeletons were here. Too many memories. Nightmares.

“How does it feel to be back after all this time?”

Sirius frowned at his childhood home. “Like rubbish, actually. I had hoped to never set foot near this place again.” He turned slightly to look at his friend. “Can you see it at all?” At Remus’ shake of his head, he grabbed his hand.

“Ah! There it is.” Remus grimaced. “Has it always been this… _pleasant_ to look at?” He was taking in the disrepair of the exterior of the place. The cobwebbed windows, peeling paint, and filthy wrought iron fencing around the perimeter.

Sirius smirked. “Yep. Looks about the same as it did when I got the hell out of here.” He made his way up the front steps. “I would think the interior is a bit darker though. Dear old mum went completely barmy after Reggie died. Well… more barmy than usual, I suppose. I wouldn’t be surprised if there were a few traps once we get inside.” A pause. “For you _and_ me.”

He waited for Remus to switch his cane over to his left hand and clasp his wand with his right. “This’ll be fun.” He gave Sirius a curt nod, indicating he was ready. “Just like old times.”

Sirius couldn’t help his uneasy chuckle as he pushed the heavy door open, wand held at the ready for any surprise attack from inside.

He quickly shut the door once the pair of them slipped inside his childhood home.

The entrance hall was in absolute darkness. He couldn’t see his hand in front of his face. The muggy smell and taste in the air of rot and pests, no doubt infesting the abandoned home.

Exhaling slowly and quietly, he let his ears pick up any threatening sound. He knew Remus was doing the same. A game plan they both regularly used decades earlier on their many missions together.

After focusing, he could hear the scurrying of critters along the hardwood floors. The fluttering of wings in the thick curtain drowning out the light.

Heavy breathing — not Remus’ — was coming from somewhere in the hall. Someone, or something, was snoring a few metres ahead of the two of them.

_“Lumos,”_ Sirius hissed. 

He took an involuntary step back in shock. His eyes, wide in fear as he took in what was before him. 

A larger-than-life portrait of his mother was at the end of the hallway. Sleeping. “Merlin’s bullocks. She’s uglier than I remembered.”

Remus snorted at his commentary.

A mistake.

The portrait’s eye shot open. Angry. Furious. Focused entirely on Sirius. “ABOMINATION OF MY FLESH! UNGRATEFUL BLOOD-TRAITOR SCUM!”

“I see you’re just as cheerful as ever, mother dearest. The artist really got your personality down to a tee.” Sirius tried to cut her off before she could really get going. He stepped in front of Remus, blocking him from view, and made his way closer to the portrait to inspect it. 

Perhaps they could pry it off of the wall and set it on fire.

“OUT! OUT!” She jabbed a finger in the general direction of the door. “YOU’RE NO SON OF MINE!” She had spotted Remus. “FILTH! SCUM! HALF-BREED!” She took a deep breath. “KREACHER! EXPEL OUR GUESTS THIS INSTANT! KREACHER!”

“Kreacher?” Remus muttered from behind him, ignoring Walburga’s continued insults.

“A four thousand years old house elf. I was hoping he’d be dead by now.” He poked the frame of the portrait with his wand. Inspecting it. It was fastened to the wall via a permanent sticking charm.

_Plan A_ was completely buggered.

“Mistress?” A raspy voice sounded from beside Sirius.

Sirius blanched as he looked down beside him. The bastard elf was still alive. “Kreacher! Shush mother up.”

“Kreacher… doesn’t listen… to the… _blood-traitor._ ” He was struggling to get the words out as he moved in front of the massive portrait. Petting the frame as he stood in front of Walburga.

Sirius smirked. The goblins at Gringotts had been successful in his reinstatement as Head of the Black family. He was officially _Lord_ Black now, as ridiculous as it sounded. He’d gotten the owl from them this morning indicating as such. “Yes you do. Shut her up. _Now.”_

“Sirius,” Remus muttered quietly in his ear. “Be kind.”

_“I am.”_ Curt.

“Be kind,” his friend pleaded.

He pinched the bridge on his nose as he took in Kreacher practically cooing at his mother. “Kreacher, look at me.” The elf twisted awkwardly to focus on him. “Please keep Mistress Walburga quiet. Remus and I are just searching for something. When we find it, we will leave you alone. Alright?”

“Perhaps… Kreacher can help find it.” The ancient elf grimaced at his offer. His engrained training was forcing him to help Sirius.

“It has to do with Regulus,” Sirius informed the elf.

The portrait started wailing. Kreacher’s hands started shaking.

“My Heir!” Walburga sobbed out as she hid her face behind her hands. “Murdered he was!” She glared at the guests. “Abomination! How dare they wipe out the last of the Blacks!”

“Oi! I’m standing right here!” Sirius protested. Hands on his hips. “I have taken my rightful place as Head of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black.” Walburga glared at him. Furious. “My godson was sorted into Slytherin, I figured it was the least I can do to help him.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it didn’t matter. His mother was calm. Thoughtful.

“And just _who_ is your godson?” She peered down her nose at him.

Sirius sighed. “He’s a Potter.”

The portrait harrumphed. “It could be worse, I suppose. Pureblood?”

Sirius snorted. “No, half-blood. Not that it matters. He could’ve been muggleborn, for all I care about that nonsense.” He began leading Remus out of the entry hall, ignoring his mother’s sputtering.

Kreacher was shuffling behind them as they made their way into the sitting room.

“What are you hiding?” He rounded on the house elf.

“N-Nothing.” Kreacher was clenching his fists. “Kreacher is hiding nothing. Kreacher is only listening to orders. Kreacher always follows orders.” He started sniffling and wringing out his filthy uniform.

“What orders?” Remus asked him thoughtfully.

Kreacher shuddered in disgust and took a step away from him.

Rolling his eyes, Sirius repeated Remus’ question. “What orders?”

“Master Regulus ordered Kreacher not to say.”

Sirius knelt down to get a better look at the elf. “Show us then.”

Kreacher jerked slightly, his eyes darting back and forth as he determined if Sirius’ order was acceptable. A curt nod. “Show you, Kreacher can.” He shuffled off towards the kitchen.

Sirius rose up on his feet once again and shared a look with Remus. They were definitely onto something.

The pair of them made their way into the dingy, dark kitchen. A few rats scurried away as the lanterns flickered on.

Shivering, Sirius took around the kitchen as Kreacher rummaged through his cupboard. “What the hell have you been doing Kreacher?” he whispered, mostly to himself.

The cupboard doors were open. Stale, spoiled food was spilling onto the countertops. He spotted a couple of doxy’s in the pantry across the room rummaging through the filth.

Kreacher backing out of his cupboard drew Sirius’ attention back to their task at hand. He was clutching an ancient-looking locket at arms length. “Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to destroy the locket. Kreacher has been trying everything… it is much too dark. Nothing Kreacher has tried works.” He shoved it in Sirius’ hand. “Kreacher has failed Master Regulus!”

He began sobbing, thumping his head and hands on the floor.

“Kreacher stop that.” Sirius was inspecting the locket closely. It was dark, alright. And he was almost certain he knew what it was.

“Is that —”

Sirius nodded. “Soul splitting. I’m sure of it,” he murmured in awe. “Regulus really did figure it out.” He looked to Remus in shock. “It’s dark, Moony. I can feel it _inspecting_ me.”

“Perhaps if we find something to carry it in until we learn how to destroy it,” Remus suggested knowingly. “I can feel it from here.”

Sirius frowned. “I’ve not felt anything this dark before. Including Azkaban.” He hooked the dainty chain with a finger and held the locket away from himself. “It’s… disturbing. Really, really disturbing.”

He stepped towards the large table and gently placed the locket on its surface and shuddered.

“Did Regulus tell you how to destroy it Kreacher?” He asked the Black family elf after a moment.

Kreacher was sitting huddled on the floor, eyeing the locket with obvious discomfort. He shook his head. “Master Regulus did not.”

“What did Regulus say to you when he found this?” Remus asked him thoughtfully.

Kreacher merely frowned.

Sirius sighed. “Answer him Kreacher. I won’t be repeating everything just because he’s a half-blood.”

Remus chuckled. “Half-breed too.”

“Yes, well… that’s neither here, nor there.” Sirius crossed his arms across his chest and waited for the elf to answer him.

Kreacher’s bottom lip was quivering with emotion. “Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to force him to drink the terrible potion even if he begged Kreacher to stop. He ordered Kreacher to switch the lockets.” He was now gasping for breath. “Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to destroy the locket. He ordered Kreacher to leave him behind.” Heart-wrenching sobs. “Kreacher watched as Master Regulus was pulled into the water.”

They had to wait a few minutes while the house elf wailed.

“Kreacher always follows orders… Kreacher left Master Regulus behind.” A garbled sob as the elf shook his head vigorously. “But, Kreacher cannot destroy the locket.”

Sirius hissed, realising that Regulus knowingly went to his death. “Left him where?” His throat was tight with emotion.

Kreacher sniffed and wiped at his cheeks. “In the cave.”

“Cave?”

“The cave that the Dark Lord took Kreacher to earlier. He forced Kreacher to drink the terrible potion. Kreacher saw… _horrible things.”_ A sniff. “The Dark Lord placed his locket into the basin and left Kreacher behind.”

“But, Regulus had ordered you to return to him when your mission with Voldemort was complete,” Sirius supplied knowingly. “So, when Voldemort _left_ the cave, you did what Reggie ordered you to do.”

Kreacher nodded. “Kreacher always follows orders,” he repeated sadly. 

“Do you know if Regulus was searching through books in the Black Library or not?”

“Master Regulus was always searching through books.”

“In regards to this.” Sirius gestured to the locket laying ominously on the table. “Or Voldemort. Did he mention anything?”

Kreacher shook his head. “Kreacher hasn’t gone into Master Regulus’ bedroom since that night. He had books in his room.”

“You haven't done _anything_ since that night,” Sirius corrected quietly. “Save for toting on Walburga, and later her portrait.”

The house elf looked as if he was about to break down once again. “Kreacher was focused on his orders.”

“Well, I’ve got some new orders for you,” Sirius began quietly. “You will let myself and Remus take this locket. It is our responsibility now. Not yours.” He sighed, turning to look at Remus for a moment. “We will likely need Narcissa as well. The Malfoy Library might have the book we’re looking for.”

Remus nodded in agreement.

“I order you, Kreacher, to clean this place up. It’s filthy.” He paused, frowning for a moment. “When you are finished doing that, Narcissa will take you in. Is that understood?”

“Kreacher understands his orders.”

“Remus and I will search around Regulus’ old bedroom. I think we’ll leave the library for now. Don’t throw any of those books out during your cleaning.” A beat. “Is that understood?”

Kreacher nodded. “Kreacher will not throw out any books.”

“Good.” Sirius cautiously picked up the locket once again and shoved it in his cloak pocket. “Inform me when you finish cleaning this place, please.”

He left the kitchen without waiting for a response. Remus following closely behind him. “I need to get the hell out of here, Moony.”

“We’ll just do a quick check,” Remus assured him. 

They quickly bounded up the staircase before coming to a halt just outside Regulus’ bedroom. Hanging just over the threshold was a sign which read: _Do Not Enter Without the Express Permission of Regulus Arcturus Black._

Sirius chuckled sadly. “Merlin, what a pompous git.” He cautiously pushed open the door.

Inside was a room in entirely Slytherin colours. The walls, windows, and bed were draped in emerald and silver coloured fabric. The Black Family crest was painstakingly painted above the headboard. The family motto, _Toujours Pur,_ was stenciled above the crest. Crisp and clean.

Sirius let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding as he slowly looked around the room.

Newspaper clippings were sellotaped to the wall above the small desk. Sirius watched as Remus stepped over to take a closer look at the faded parchment. “What do they say?” 

A quiet hum. “Clippings about Voldemort.” Remus paused. “It looks like Regulus was a fan.”

Sirius nodded. It fit with the Regulus he knew while still at Hogwarts. Stepping towards the towering bookcase, he began to peer at the spines, reading through the titles quickly. _Hogwarts, A History, Magical Drafts and Potions, Intermediate Transfiguration, Numerology and Grammatica, Advanced Rune Translation._

“Anything that catches your eye?” Remus broke the silence after a few minutes.

Sirius shook his head, clearing his throat. “It’s all just old school books.” A sniff. “He was just a boy.”

He took a step back from the bookcase. A groan from the floor as his heel pressed down on the rug. He could feel the floorboard give, ever-so-slightly.

Sharing a look with Remus he swept the rug aside. He had been standing on a loose floorboard.

Kneeling down to get a closer look, Sirius brushed his fingers over the edge of the board. It had obviously been tampered with. Removed repeatedly over the years. 

He pried it open and took a look at what was hidden inside the secret cubbyhole.

_Books._

“What the —” Sirius reached a hand in and pulled the bundle of books out to take a better look.

“Which books are they?” Remus voiced from behind him.

“ _Pureblood Directory, Secrets of the Darkest Art,_ and _Nature’s Nobility: A Wizarding Genealogy._ ” A pause. “I-I don’t understand why Reggie would’ve hidden them. Not here at Grimmauld.”

“Must’ve had a reason,” Remus chimed in quietly. He handed Sirius an old rucksack. “Put them in here. Let’s get out of here, alright? The locket is making me anxious.”

Sirius hummed in agreement and tucked the books in the bag. Taking one last peek into the cubbyhole, he spotted a small wooden box nestled on the bottom.

He reached in once again and pulled the box out. 

Sirius took a quick peek in the box and spotted old letters. “Huh.” He reached into his cloak pocket, pulled the locket out, and tossed it in with the letters before adding the box to the bag.

Rising to his feet, he turned around and faced Remus once again. “You alright?”

Remus nodded slowly. “Yeah… just… on edge.” His worry was evident in the tone.

Sirius nodded slowly and gave his friend an understanding smile. “Your eyes are your own,” he reassured him quietly. “Not Moony’s.”

“I feel like —”

“You’re not about to transform. It’s just the locket getting to you. Nothing more.” Sirius slung on the rucksack, and clasped Remus on his shoulder. “Let’s get the hell out of here. We can drop this off at Gringotts, I think. Keep it safe for now.”

The two left Regulus’ childhood bedroom, made their way downstairs, and left Grimmauld Place. 

Hopefully for the last time.

~ | ~

“A new vault, you say?” Odbert, the Black family’s goblin, clasped his hands together on top of his desk and waited for Sirius to respond.

Sirius nodded as he readjusted the rucksack still slung on his shoulder. “Yes sir. Something with high security, would be preferred if it is available.” The Daily Prophet articles he had read months earlier about the break-in at Gringotts left him somewhat uneasy. But, he had nowhere else to store the locket. 

The bank was still by far the safest place available.

Odbert hummed, narrowing his eyes at Sirius for a moment or two. “Preference for multiple keys, spells, or blood offering?”

Sirius frowned. “Blood, I think. Can I make it so select wizards and witches other than myself can enter if it’s a blood offering vault?”

A single nod. “That can be arranged,” Odbert confirmed. “Relations?” He picked up a quill and began scribbling on some parchment, setting up the transaction.

“One yes, the other no relation.” Sirius swallowed. “Narcissa Malfoy and Remus Lupin are the only two other than myself that I will allow access to, for the time being.” A pause. “If anyone other than myself, Narcissa, or Remus attempts to gain access I’d like to be notified promptly. Especially if Albus Dumbledore is one of those individuals.” He thought of what Harry had informed him about his introduction to the Wizarding World. “Or Rubeus Hagrid,” he added on after a moment.

A knowing grin erupted on Odbert’s face. “With pleasure. We will detain whomever attempts to gain access other than those listed.”

The goblin pulled an ancient dagger out of his desk drawer and gestured for Sirius to provide a blood offering.

Sirius winced as his index finger was pierced.

The goblin squeezed his finger and twisted it. Forcing the drop of blood to splash onto the parchment below.

“The transaction is complete. Vault 704 is now yours, Lord Black.” Odbert paused, watching Sirius closely. “Gringotts will notify Lady Narcissa Malfoy and Mister Remus Lupin within a fortnight.”

“Thank you, Odbert.” Sirius stood up from his seat. “May your vaults forever be bountiful, your daggers always sharpened, and your wits undoubtedly cunning.” He gave the goblin a respectful bow of his head.

“May your mind always be sharp, your knowledge forever full, and your magic always pure, Lord Black.” Odbert returned Sirius’ bow with one of his own. “It is always a pleasure doing business with you.” A pause. “Griphook will escort you to your vault.”

“Understood.” Sirius left the back office and made his way towards the main hall once again in search of Griphook.

As soon as he set foot in the hall, a goblin greeted him. “Lord Black. I am Griphook. Follow me.”

The two made their way towards the waiting cart and were soon off, travelling to Vault 704 far down below.

~ | ~

“Did you get me some sweets to go along with your chocolate?” Sirius asked Remus as he came to a stop beside him just outside Gringotts.

Remus held out a small mixed bag full of wine-gums, liquorice wands, and pepper imps.

Sirius eagerly snatched the bag from him and popped a wine-gum into his mouth. “Thanks Moony,” he said with a full mouth. “These are my adult sweets.”

Remus merely raised a brow as he tossed a small chocolate into his mouth. “You specifically asked for pepper imps, Pads. I highly doubt sweets causing the consumer to breathe fire counts as ‘adult’.”

Sirius snorted. “Nonsense. Loads of adults love those things.” He hummed quietly, readjusting the rucksack on his shoulder. “Let’s head home. I’d like to go through what Regulus left for us.”

  
  



	15. Chapter 15

Sirius sat on the small sofa in front of the roaring fire, nursing a tumbler of Firewhiskey as he clutched Regulus’ letter. He took a long swig of his drink in preparation of reading his brother’s final words.

Exhaling slowly, Sirius focused on the long letter and began to read.

> _10th of October, 1979_
> 
> _Sirius,_
> 
> _I write to you with the understanding that you will most likely never read this. I have hope however, that one day you will return to your childhood home and snoop through my belongings like the pest you always were. And with that in mind, I must inform you that it is of the utmost importance that you pay close attention to what I say in this letter._
> 
> _I hadn’t told you everything in my prior note to you in fear of it being intercepted by someone on my end, or by someone on yours. I do not know who I can trust other than you, my brother._
> 
> _I also offer my sincerest apologies for not listening to your warnings before you left Grimmauld Place permanently. I am sorry that I refused to flee with you, no matter how much you insisted that I did so. While I do have regrets, I also know that my actions, or inactions in this case, have led me to this night. If I had gone with you I wouldn’t have learned what I have about the Dark Lord._
> 
> _As I mentioned before, the Dark Lord has found a way to become immortal. He has created what I believe to be dark items called Horcruxes. Yes, Horcruxes — plural. As in more than one. Through brief research in our library, I’ve learned that Horcruxes are objects that contain severed bits of one’s soul. One of the books with this letter has a section about these items. For safekeeping, I’ve also set aside two books on wizarding genealogy, in case they are important. I suggest you read them._
> 
> _Mother has been setting fire to numerous items throughout Grimmauld Place for some reason. I am uncertain as to why, other than her insanity is beginning to make itself known even more so than before._

“Oh Reggie… you’ve no idea,” Sirius muttered as he took another sip of his Firewhiskey and continued to read.

> _While I do not know how many Horcruxes the Dark Lord was able to create, I do know the most likely owners of a small number of these horrific items._
> 
> _By the time you’ve read this, Kreacher should have been able to destroy a locket that contains a piece of the Dark Lord’s soul. If not, you must get it from him. Steal it if you must._
> 
> _Through Kreacher’s description, I have deduced that this locket is most likely Salazar Slytherin’s. I am uncertain if this detail is important. I do know, however, that the Dark Lord likes to place emphasis on Magical history. I feel that this will be key in his eventual defeat._
> 
> _I believe our cousin Bellatrix is in possession of another Horcrux. I saw the glint of gold as the Dark Lord passed her an item wrapped in rags, for safekeeping._
> 
> _Thelonius Nott was also present during the meeting. He had arrived prior to myself and, as a result, I was unable to see what the Dark Lord had given him. With knowledge of the fact that Nott was a Knight of Walpurgis prior to becoming a Death Eater, I assume that the Dark Lord trusts his loyal soldier enough to give him something as well. I fear him more than I do our cousin Bella. Thelonius is sane, after all. Do not trust him. It will be your downfall if you do._
> 
> _I must go now. I am soon leaving to obtain the locket for Kreacher to destroy._
> 
> _Goodbye, dear brother, and please do watch your back. I trust Albus Dumbledore almost as much as I trust the Dark Lord. That is to say, not at all._
> 
> _Your Brother,_
> 
> _Reg_

Sirius cleared his throat as he finished the letter and set down his empty whiskey tumbler on the table beside the sofa.

He sat in silence as he watched the flickering flames of the fireplace in front of him. His mind was whirring with all that his brother had told him. His heart, racing. He could hear its rapid beating in his ears.

Taking in a deep breath, Sirius counted to ten in his head and then slowly exhaled, before repeating the exercise again and again and again. Remembering the directions his healer had repeated to him after he had been released from Azkaban and had been having difficulty coping with the outside world.

It wasn’t until he had his heart rate back under control that he took notice of the other occupant in the room.

Remus was watching him from a nearby chair with a concerned expression on his face.

Sirius swallowed. “I’m alright,” he reassured his friend.

“Were you attempting to prevent a panic attack?” 

Sirius shook his head. “Not exactly. When I was first released from Azkaban, I would sometimes have a difficult time with being outside my prison cell. I preferred to hide away as Padfoot when anything got remotely overwhelming. Still do, as a matter of fact.”

“It’s much simpler being a dog,” Remus supplied in understanding.

Rubbing his face, Sirius nodded. “It is.”

“What caused you to feel overwhelmed? What has Regulus told you?”

“There are most likely _multiple_ Horcruxes,” Sirius muttered after a moment. “He didn’t know how many.”

Remus leaned forward in his chair. “Did he know where?”

Sirius shook his head. “He knew _who_ the items were most likely given to." A beat. “My lovely cousin Bellatrix, and the one-and-only Thelonius Nott.”

“Well… _shit.”_

Sirius snorted. “My thoughts exactly.”

~ | ~

The freezing February turned into a melting March; the sound of the trickling runoff echoed in the hallways throughout the main floor of the school, leading to massive puddles accumulating in the most inconvenient places.

Everything was a sloppy mess.

Hermione grimaced as she began to make her way down the stone steps, following closely behind Harry and Theo, as they entered the dungeons. Pansy was tightly grasping the stone railing on Hermione’s right side.

“Gosh… everything is so bloody wet,” the short witch complained under her breath. “My feet are already ice cold and class hasn’t even begun for the day.”

“Just think… double Potions and then we are done for the rest of the week,” Hermione reminded her. “We can spend the rest of the day in our common room by the fire.”

“Maybe one of the older students will bring us some hot chocolate,” Pansy suggested. “It’s a bit annoying that no one has told us where the kitchen is. I would love to stop by when the elves make us treacle tart and pick up some leftovers – it’s my favourite.”

Hermione laughed loudly. “You sound like Harry. It’s his favourite too.”

“You sound like Harry… it’s his favourite too,” a mocking voice said from behind her.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Ronald Weasley had made his presence known once again after a couple of months of silence. “Good morning, Weasley. I assume you’re prepared to brew Antidote to Common Poisons. I’ve heard that it’s the most difficult potion we’ll learn this year.” She supposed she could at least _try_ to have a conversation with him.

“Is that a threat?” Ron sneered in her ear. “Typical snake… threatening anyone who’s better than them.”

He shoved her roughly from behind.

Hermione cried out as she lost her footing and tumbled down the last few stairs, landing hard on her knees in a large puddle.

“You’re dumber than a troll, Weasley!” Theo yelled at the redhead as Harry tried to pull Hermione to her feet and out of the way. _“Furnunculus!”_

Ron yelped in pain just as Hermione regained her footing.

“Now you’ll look like one too!” Theo taunted cooly.

Hermione twisted around to take in Ron. The redhead’s face was covered in boils and he was swearing up a storm.

“What is all this ruckus?” Professor Snape questioned as he rushed out of the nearby classroom.

“Weasley pushed Hermione down the stairs, Professor,” Pansy primly informed her Head of House before any of the Gryffindor first years could get a word in. “Weasley was pulling out his wand and was undoubtedly about to attack Hermione further. Theo stepped in and defended her.” She jutted her chin out and pursed her lips as she waited for Snape’s response.

Hermione blinked away her tears as her knees throbbed in pain from her fall. She refused to cry in front of Ron.

“I didn’t do a thing!” The redhead argued loudly. “My wand is in my bloody pocket!” He hissed as the large boil on his cheek popped open.

“Silence!” Snape peered down at Hermione, taking in her scraped knees and the pained expression on her face. “Ten points from Gryffindor for your foul language, Mr. Weasley. You’ve been warned already by a number of professors.” He frowned. “A week’s worth of detention should suffice for your unprovoked attack on Miss Granger.” He gestured vaguely at Ron. “I have, unfortunately for you, recently run out of Cure for Boils, so you’ll need to visit Madam Pomfrey to get those removed. Come see me before today’s class ends. Do. Not. Be. Late.”

Hermione watched as Weasley hurried up the stairs and out of the dungeons.

“Give Miss Granger and I a moment,” Snape quietly ordered the growing crowd of students. He led her into the empty classroom, before shutting the door behind them. 

Hermione followed her Head of House as he made his way towards his teaching station at the front of the room, wincing with each step she took. She watched as he reached down and grabbed a small vial of a purple liquid that she knew to be Wiggenweld Potion. It was right next to a large, full bottle labelled ‘Cure for Boils’.

“This should ease any pain you have, Miss Granger,” Snape informed her as he handed her the vial of Wiggenweld Potion.

“Thank you, sir,” Hermione quietly said as she popped off the rubber stopper. She quickly swallowed the unpleasant tasting potion and handed the now empty vial back to her professor. 

Hermione sniffed as the pain in her knees lessened almost instantly.

“What set Mr. Weasley off this time?” Snape queried as he placed the empty vial in the nearby sink.

Clearing her throat, Hermione frowned. “I was talking with Pansy as we made our way down the stairs. She brought up how treacle tart was her favourite pudding. I mentioned that Harry felt the same, that it was his favourite as well.” She shook her head. “Ron mocked me and repeated what I said in a squeaky voice. I swear Professor Snape, I tried to be civil. I asked him if he was prepared to brew the potion we are supposed to work on today, Antidote for Common Poisons.”

Wrapping her arms around herself, Hermione shook her head once again. “He accused me of threatening him and then pushed me down the last few stairs.” She sniffed. “Everything happened so fast. I didn’t have time to brace my fall.”

Snape gave her a curt nod of his head at her explanation. “Find a seat Miss Granger. I will speak with Mr. Weasley during his detention.”

“Thank you, Professor,” she muttered as she sat down at her usual workstation.

The classroom door was opened and a short time later the room began to fill up with Slytherin and Gryffindor first year students.

Hermione set her copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_ down on the table just as Pansy took the stool next to her.

“Are you alright?” Pansy quietly asked Hermione as she set her bag on the floor beside her stool.

Hermione gave her friend a nod of her head. “Snape gave me a vial of Wiggenweld Potion. My knees don’t hurt too much anymore.” She watched as Harry and Theo took their seats at the table in front of her. “Thank you for defending me, Theo,” she told the quiet Slytherin as Professor Snape came to a stop at the front of the classroom.

“Don’t mention it.” Theo grinned at her. “I’ve been wanting to try that jinx for ages. Seemed fitting, given the circumstances.”

Hermione quietly snickered as Snape began the class. 

“Apologies for the slight delay,” he said, drawing Hermione’s attention to the front of the room. “You will be learning how to brew the Antidote for Common Poisons.” There was a short pause as he brought up the instructions on the blackboard behind him. “This Potion _will_ be tested on your exam in June. I suggest you pay close attention to the brewing directions.” He peered at the numerous pupils around the room. “You may begin.”

~ | ~

Hermione recoiled sharply as she stepped into the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom with Harry, Daphne and Draco. While the room had reeked of garlic since Professor Quirrell had begun teaching the subject, the stench today was far beyond anything they had experienced before. _And_ it was stifling.

It was a horrible combination.

While she still didn’t like their Defence professor, there had been nothing over the last couple of months that indicated he was looking to harm Harry. In fact, Quirrell seemed to be the most unthreatening individual she had ever met; he was petrified of absolutely everything. So much so that Hermione was doubting if the professor had jinxed Harry’s broom at all. 

Perhaps he too had tried to protect Harry. 

She shook her head as she took her seat near the front of the room with her friends and began taking out her textbook and notebook for the theory-based lecture.

“What are we learning about today?” Harry asked her quietly as he pulled out his own books. He had a hand over his nose in a futile attempt to ward off the smell.

“Vampires,” Hermione said after clearing her throat. “Perhaps it won’t be half-bad.”

“That explains the extra garlic,” Draco muttered quietly.

“Not the heat though,” Daphne complained under her breath.

“Maybe Quirrell thinks he can ward off the vampires by cooking them to death.” Harry peeled off his cloak and tossed it over the back of his chair.

Hermione snorted as she took out her quill and inkwell, ready for the lecture to begin. “Like lobsters, you mean?”

Harry grinned at her, nodding enthusiastically.

Daphne sighed tiredly from next to Hermione. “Only a few more lectures left,” she reminded the small group. “If what the older students say is true about the curse, we won’t be forced to sit through this next year.”

The sound of a wand tapping on the teaching pedestal at the front of the classroom prevented Hermione from responding.

“Attention first years,” Quirrell called out as the large doors to the room snapped shut. “T-Today you will be learning about v-vampires.” He shuddered as he turned to face the blackboard. “In theory, of course.” He gave the room a nervous chuckle as notes appeared on the board. “W-We wouldn’t want any v-vampires in here, now w-would we?”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she scratched down the date in her notebook and began copying down the information on the board.

“V-Vampires are dark magical creatures that are k-known for consuming the blood of their victims.” Quirrell was focused entirely on the textbook on the teaching pedestal and appeared to be reading it word-for-word. “They are pale, gaunt creatures with sharp fangs which enable them to puncture the throats of their unsuspecting victims and drink their blood.” He frowned as he took in the students staring at him. “T-They don’t actually have to puncture the neck… anywhere will do.”

Hermione scribbled the tidbit down.

“They are nocturnal creatures classified as _Living Dead_ beings along with zombies, which we will be learning about next class, f-for sure!” Another nervous chuckle.

Hermione hid a yawn behind her hand as Quirrell droned on and on. While the topic itself was rather interesting, the heat from the room was threatening to put her to sleep.

Thankfully, it wasn’t too long until the lecture was finished. Hermione noisily pushed her chair back and stuffed her belongings into her rucksack, eager to head to dinner with her friends.

Spilling out of the classroom, she and the other students made their way down the staircases towards the Great Hall.

“Oh, _bloody hell,”_ Harry exclaimed once they reached the doors of the Great Hall. “I forgot my cloak.” He frowned and ruffled up his hair as he looked in the general direction of the grand staircase.

“I’ll come with you,” Hermione stated as she tugged at the strap of her rucksack in preparation of the long trek back up the stairs.

Harry shook his head. “Nah… it’s alright.” He gave Hermione a warm grin. “Just save me a spot, would you? I’ll be back in a few minutes. Hopefully Quirrell hasn’t locked up the classroom just yet.”

Hermione watched as her friend took off towards the stairs.

“Come Hermione,” Daphne quietly insisted. “Let’s find us all a spot to sit together.”

Hermione, Draco, and Daphne all made their way into the Great Hall just in time to watch the delicious food appear on the four long tables.

_“Thank Merlin!”_ Draco exclaimed. “I’m famished.”

~ | ~

Hermione sat picking at her treacle tart as she worriedly watched the doors to the Great Hall, waiting for Harry to make his way through.

She knew, without a doubt, that something was terribly wrong. She could feel it in her gut.

Risking a glance at the head table at the far end of the hall, Hermione noted that Professor Quirrell was also missing.

“Granger,” a voice murmured in her ear. Theo. “What’s got you in such a state?”

“Hmm?” She blinked at Theo.

“You’ve barely eaten anything all dinner,” Theo said to her with obvious concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Harry… he forgot his cloak in the Defence classroom.” Hermione took a quick breath in as her panic slowly began to set in. “He hasn’t come back.”

Theo frowned before turning to search the head table. “No Quirrell either. _Or_ Dumbledore, for that matter.”

Hermione shook her head. “I think I’ve made an awful mistake letting him go alone.”

Theo stood up from the bench and held out a hand for her to grasp. “Let’s tell Snape, he’ll know what to do.”

Hermione placed her hand in Theo’s and was practically tugged to her feet. The two of them rushed past the other Slytherin students all seated at the table and chatting with their friends. 

They stepped up on the platform and stopped directly in front of Snape, who was watching them with an eyebrow raised in question.

“Harry left his cloak in the Defence classroom and went back to get it just before dinner,” Hermione rushed out. “He’s not returned. Neither has Quirrell.”

Snape’s eye darkened and his jaw set. “Stay here. Don’t go searching for him yourselves.” He looked pointedly at Hermione and Theo. “I will deal with it.”

He got up from his seat and quickly made his way over to Professor McGonagall, bent over and muttered something in her ear.

Hermione watched as the Head of Gryffindor paled considerably. She gave Snape a curt nod of her head before she and the Head of Slytherin sped out of the Great Hall, in search of Harry.

  
  
  
  



End file.
